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THE 


LADY  OF  THE  LAKE, 


A   POEM. 


B? 


SIR    WALTER     SCOTT. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  JOHN  GILBERT. 


NEW    YORK: 
GEO.    A.    LEAVITT,    PUBLISHER 

No.    8    HOWARD    STREET. 
1809. 


Ji 


y 


THE  MOST  NOBLE 

JOHN  JAMES,  MARQUIS  OF  ABERCORN 

ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC.. 

THIS    POEM    IS    INSCRIBED 

8Y  THE  AUTHOR. 


GIFT  or 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


DESIGNED   BY  JOHN   GILBERT. 
ENGRAVED  BY  ALBERT  W.  GRAHAM. 


FRONTISPIECE. 


'  Madmen,  forbear  your  frantic  jar ! 
What !  is  the  Douglas  fallen  so  far !" 

Canto  Second,  Stanza  .34,  page  7! 


5NGRAVED   TITLE. 

'With  that  he  blew  a  bugle-note, 
Undid  the  collar  from  his  throat." 

Canto  Fifth,  Stanza  17,  page  1G9. 


'Alas!  she  sobbed,  and  yet  be  gone, 
And  speed  thee  forth  like  Duncan's  son." 

Canto  Third,  Stanza  18,  page  100. 


iviioaaGi 


LIST     OF     ILLUSTRATIONS. 


'  EUeu,  thy  Iiaud — the  ring  is  thiue  ; 
Each  guard  and  usher  .knows  the  sign." 

Canto  Fattrlh,  Stanza  19,  pa^e  137. 


'She  sate  beneath  the  birchen  tree, 
Her  elbow  resting  on  her  knee." 

Canto  Fourth,  Stanza  27,  pac/e  144^ 


"Let  each  the  buxom  chorus  bear. 
Like  brethren  of  the  brand  and  spear." 

Canto  Sixth,  Stanza  4,  pa^e  192. 


Hark,  Minstrel  I  I  have  heard  thee  play, 
With  measure  bold,  on  festal  day." 

Ca?ito  Sixth,  Stanza  14,  page  203. 


CONTENTS. 


FIRST    CANTO THE    CHASE. 

SECOND    CANTO THK    ISLAND. 

THIRD    CANTO THE    GATHERING 

FOURTH    CANTO       THE    PROPHECY. 

FIFTH    CANTO THE    COMBAT. 

SIXTH    CANTO THE    GUARD-ROOM 


ARGUMENT. 


1  HE  scene  of  the  following  Poem  is  laid  chiefly  in  the  vicinity 
of  Loch-Katrine,  in  the  Western  Highlands  of  Perthshire.  The 
time  ol  action  inciudes  six  days,  ana  the  transactions  of  each 
day  occupy  a  canto. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


CANTO  FIRST. 

Harp  of  the  North!  that  mouldering  long  hast  hung 

On  the  wifcch-elm  that  shades  Saint  Fillan's  spring, 
And  down  the  fitful  breeze  thy  numbers  flung, 

Till  envious  ivy  did  around  thee  ciing, 
Muffling  with  verdant  ringlet  every  string, — 

0  minstrel  Harp,  still  must  thine  accents  sleep  ? 
Mid  rustling  leaves  and  fountains  murmuring, 

Still  must  thy  sweeter  sounds  their  silence  keep. 
Nor  bid  a  warrior  smile,  nor  teach  a  maid  to  weep ' 

Not  thus,  in  ancient  days  of  Caledon, 

Was  thy  voice  mute  amid  the  festal  crowd, 

When  lay  of  hopeless  love,  or  glory  won. 
Aroused  the  fearful,  or  subdued  the  proud. 


14  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

At  each  according  pause  was  heaid  aloud 
Thine  ardent  symphony,  sublime  and  high ! 

Fair  dames  and  crested  chiefs  attention  bov;'d  ; 
For  still  the  burden  of  thy  minstrelsy 
Was  Knighthood's  dauntless  deed,  and  Beauty's  matchless  eye, 

0  wake  bn-ce  more !  how  rude  soe'er  the  hand 

That  ventures  o'er  thy  magic  maze  to  stray  , 
0  wake  once  more !  though  scarce  my  skill  commana 

Some  feeble  echoing  of  thine  earlier  lay : 
Though  harsh  and  faint,  and  soon  to  die  away, 

And  all  unworthy  of  thy  nobler  strain, 
Yet  if  one  heart  throb  higher  at  its  sway. 

The  wizard  note  has  not  been  touch'd  in  vain. 
Then  silent  be  no  more!     Enchantress,  wake  again' 


THE    CHASE.  15 


The  Stag  at  eve  had  drunk  his  fill, 

Where  danced  the  moon  on  Monan's  rill, 

And  deep  his  midnight  lair  had  made 

In  lone  Glenartney's  hazel  shade  ; 

But,  when  the  sun  his  beacon  red 

Had  kindled  on  Benvoirlich's  head, 

The  deep-mouth'd  blood-hound's  heavy  bay 

Resounded  up  the  rocky  way, 

And  faint,  from  farther  distance  borne, 

Were  heard  the  clanging  hoof  and  horn. 


II 

As  Chief,  who  hears  his  warder  call, 
«  To  arms '  the  foemen  storm  the  wall," 
The  antler'd  monarch  of  the  waste 
Sprung  from  his  heathery  couch  in  haste. 
But,  ere  his  fleet  career  he  took, 
The  dew-drops  from  his  flanks  he  shook ; 
Like  crested  leader  proud  and  high, 
Toss'd  his  beam'd  frontlet  to  the  sky ; 
A  moment  gazed  adown  the  dale, 
A  moment  snufT'd  the  tainted  gale, 
A  moment  listen'd  to  the  cry, 
That  thicken'd  as  the  chase  drew  nigh ; 


f^  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

Then,  as  the  headmost  foes  appear'd, 
With  one  brave  bound  the  copse  he  clear'd, 
And,  stretching  forward  free  and  far, 
Soucrht  the  wild  heaths  of  Uam-V  ar. 


ni. 

iTell'd  on  the  view  the  opening  pack. 
Rock,  glen,  and  cavern  paid  them  back ; 
To  many  a  mingled  sound  at  once 
The  awaken'd  mountain  gave  response. 
An  hundred  dogs  bay'd  deep  and  strong, 
Clatter'd  an  hundred  steeds  along, 
Their  peal  the  merry  horns  rung  out, 
An  hundred  voices  join'd  the  shout ; 
With  hark  and  whoop  and  wild  halloo, 
No  rest  Benvoirlich's  echoes  knew. 
Far  from  the  tumult  fled  the  roe, 
Close  in  her  covert  cower'd  the  doe, 
The  falcon,  from  her  cairn  on  high. 
Cast  on  the  rout  a  wondering  eye, 
Till  far  beyond  her  piercing  ken 
The  hurricane  had  swept  the  glen. 
Faint,  and  more  faint,  its  failing  din 
Return'd  from  cavern,  cliff,  and  linn, 
And  silence  settled,  wide  and  still, 
On  the  lone  wood  and  mighty  hill. 


THE    CHASE.  17 


IV. 

Less  loud  the  sounds  of  sylvan  war 
Disturb'd  the  heights  of  Uam-Var, 
And  roused  the  cavern,  where  'tis  told 
A  giant  made  his  den  of  old  ; 
For  ere  that  steep  ascent  was  won, 
High  in  his  pathway  hung  the  sun, 
And  many  a  gallant,  stay'd  perforce, 
Was  faui  to  breathe  his  faltering  horse  ; 
And  of  the  trackers  of  the  deer 
Scarce  half  the  lessening  pack  was  ne?j: ; 
So  shrewdly,  on  the  moimtain  side, 
Had  the  bold  burst  their  mettle  tried. 

V. 

ine  noble  Stag  was  pausing  now 
Upon  the  mountain's  southern  brow, 
Where  broad  extended,  far  beneath, 
The  varied    ealms  of  fair  Menteith. 
With  anxious  eye  he  wander'd  o'er 
Mountain  and  meadow,  moss  and  moor, 
And  ponder'd  refuge  from  his  toil, 
By  far  Lochard  or  Aberfoyle. 
But  nearer  was  the  copse-wood  gray, 
That  w^aved  and  wept  on  Loch-Achray, 
And  mingled  with  the  pine-trees  blue 
On  the  bold  cliffs  of  Ben-venue. 


18  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

Fresh  vigour  with  the  hope  return'd, 
With  flying  foot  the  heath  he  spurn' d 
Held  westward  with  unwearied  race, 
And  left  behind  the  panting  chase. 


'Twere  long  to  tell  what  steeds  gave  o'er. 
As  swept  the  hunt  through  Cambus-More  ; 
What  reins  were  tighten'd  in  despair, 
When  rose  Benledi's  ridge  in  air ; 
Who  flagged  upon  Bochastle's  heath, 
Who  shunn'd  to  stem  the  flooded  Teith, — 
For  twice,  that  day,  from  shore  to  shore, 
The  gallant  Stag  swam  stoutly  o'er. 
Few  were  the  stragglers,  following  far, 
That  reach'd  tlie  lake  of  Vennachar  ; 
And  when  the  Brigg  of  Turk  was  won, 
The  headmost  horseman  rode  alone. 

VII. 

Alone,  but  with  unbated  zeal, 
That  horseman  plied  the  scourge  and  steel  ; 
For,  jaded  now,  and  spent  with  toil, 
Emboss'd  with  foam,  and  dark  with  soil, 
While  every  gasp  with  sobs  he  drew, 
The  lab'rinof  Staff  strain'd  full  in  view. 


THE    CHASE.  IJJ 


Two  dofi^s  of  black  St.  Hubert's  breed, 

Unmatch'd  for  courage,  breath,  and  speed, 

Fast  on  his  flying  traces  came. 

And  all  but  won  that  desperate  game  ; 

For,  scarce  a  spear's  length  from  his  haunch, 

Vindictive  toil'd  the  blood-hounds  staunch  ; 

Nor  nearer  might  the  dogs  attain, 

Nor  farther  might  the  quarry  strain. 

Thus  up  the  margin  of  the  lake, 

Between  the  precipice  and  brake, 

O'er  stock  and  rock  their  race  they  take. 


The  lone  lake's  western  boundary, 
And  deem'd  the  Stag  must  turn  to  bay, 
Where  that  huge  rampart  barr'd  the  way  ; 
Already  glorying  in  the  prize, 
Measured  his  antlers  with  his  eyes  ; 
For  the  death- wound,  and  death-halloo, 
Muster'd  his  breath,  his  whinyard  drew  ; 
But  thundering  as  he  came  prepared, 
With  ready  arm  and  weapon  bared, 
The  wily  quarry  shunn'd  the  shock, 
Ana  turn'd  him  from  th'  opposing  rock; 
Then,  dashing  down  a  darksome  glen, 
Soon  lost  to  hound  and  hunter's  ken, 


S50        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

In  the  deep  Trosachs'  wildest  nook 
His  solitary  refuge  took. 
There,  while  close  couch'd,  the  thicket  shed 
Cold  dews  and  wild  flowers  on  his  head, 
•  He  heard  the  baffled  dogs  in  vain 
Rave  through  the  hollow  pass  amain. 
Chiding  the  rocks  that  yell'd  again. 


IX. 

Close  on  the  hounds  the  hunter  came, 
To  cheer  them  on  the  vanish'd  game  ; 
But,  stumbling  in  the  rugged  dell, 
The  gallant  horse  exhausted  fell. 
The  impatient  rider  strove  in  vain 
To  rouse  him  with  the  spur  and  rein. 
For  the  good  steed,  his  labours  o'er, 
Stretch'd  his  stiff  limbs  to  rise  no  more  : 
Then,  touch'd  with  pity  and  remorse. 
He  sorrow'd  o'er  the  expiring  horse. 
"  I  little  thought,  when  first  thy  rein 
I  slack'd  upon  the  banks  of  Seine, 
That  Highland  eagle  e'er  should  feed 
On  thy  fleet  limbs,  my  matchless  steed ! 
Wo  worth  the  chase,  wo  worth  tlie  day. 
That  costs  thy  life,  my  gallant  gray !" — 


THE    CHASE.  21 


X. 

Then  through  the  dell  his  horn  resounds. 
From  vain  pursuit  to  call  the  hounds. 
Back  limp'd,  with  slow  and  crippled  pace, 
The  sulky  leaders  of  the  chase  ; 
Close  to  their  masler's  side  they  press'd, 
With  drooping  tail  and  humbled  crest ; 
But  still  the  dingle's  hollow  throat 
Prolong'd  the  swelling  bugle  note. 
The  owlets  started  from  their  dream, 
The  eagles  answer' d  with  their  scream  ; 
Round  and  around  the  sounds  were  cast, 
Till  echo  seem'd  an  answering  blast ; 
And  on  the  hunter  hied  his  way, 
To  join  some  comrades  of  the  day; 
Yet  often  paused,  so  strange  the  road, 
So  wondrous  were  the  scenes  it  show'd. 

XI. 

The  western  waves  of  ebbing  day 
Roll'd  o'er  the  glen  their  level  way; 
Each  purple  peak,  each  flinty  spire, 
Was  bathed  in  floods  of  living  fire. 
But  not  a  setting  beam  could  glow 
Within  the  dark  ravines  below, 
Where  twined  the  path,  in  shadow  hid. 
Round  many  a  rocky  pyramid, 


22  THE    L^DY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

Shooting  abruptly  from  the  dell 

Its  thunder-splinter'd  pinnacle 

Round  many  an  insulated  mass, 

The  native  bulwarks  of  the  pass, 

Huge  as  the  tower  which  builders  vaiu 

Presumptuous  piled  on  Shinar's  plain. 

The  rocky  summits,  split  and  rent, 

Form'd  turret,  dome,  or  battlement, 

Or  seem'd  fantastically  set 

With  cupola  or  minaret ; 

Wild  crests  as  pagod  ever  deck'd, 

Or  mosque  of  Eastern  architect. 

Nor  were  these  earthborn  castles  bare, 

Nor  lack'd  they  many  a  banner  fair; 

For,  from  their  shiver'd  brows  displayed, 

Far  o'er  the  unfathomable  glade, 

All  twinkling  with  the  dew-drop  sheen, 

The  briar-rose  fell  in  streamers  green. 

And  creeping  shrubs,  of  thousand  dyes, 

Waved  in  the  west-wind's  summer  sighs. 


XII. 

Boon  nature  scatter'd,  free  and  wild, 
Each  plant  or  flower,  the  mountain's  child 
Here  eglantine  embalm'd  the  air, 
Elawthorn  and  hazel  minded  there ; 


THE    CHASE.  23 


The  primrose  pale,  and  violet  flower, 
Found  in  each  cliff  a  narrow  bower; 
Foxglove  and  nightshade,  side  by  side, 
Emblems  of  punishment  and  pride, 
Group'd  their  dark  hues  with  every  stain 
The  weather-beaten  crags  retain. 
With  boughs  that  quaked  at  every  breath, 
Gray  birch  and  aspen  wept  beneath  ; 
Aloft,  the  ash  and  w^arrior  oak 
Cast  anchor  in  the  rifted  rock ; 
And,  higher  yet,  the  pine-tree  hung 
His  shatter'd  trunk,  and  frequent  flung. 
Where  seem'd  the  cliffs  to  meet  on  high, 
His  boughs  athwart  the  narrow'd  sky. 
Highest  of  all  where  white  peaks  glanced. 
Where  glist'ning  streamers  waved  and  danced 
The  wanderer's  eye  could  barely  view 
The  summer  heaven's  delicious  blue  ; 
So  wondrous  wild,  the  whole  might  seem 
The  scenery  of  a  fairy  dream. 


XIII. 

Onward,  amid  the  copse,  'gan  peep 
A  narrow  inlet,  still  and  deep. 
Affording  scarce  such  breadth  of  brim. 
As  served  the  wild-duck's  brood  to  swim  ; 


24  THELADYOFTHELAKE. 

Lost  for  a  space,  through  thickets  veeriuj». 
But  broader  when  again  appearing, 
Tall  rocks  and  tufted  knolls  their  face 
Could  on  the  dark-blue  mirror  trace  ; 
And,  farther,  as  the  hunter  stray'd, 
Still  broader  sweep  its  channels  made. 
The  shaggy  mounds  no  longer  stood 
Emerging  from  entangled  wood, 
But,  wave-encircled,  seem'd  to  floaL, 
Like  castle  girdled  with  its  moat ; 
Yet  broader  floods  extending  still, 
Divide  them  from  their  parent  hill, 
Till  each,  retiring,  claims  to  be 
An  islet  in  an  inland  sea. 


XIV. 

And  now,  to  issue  from  the  glen, 

No  pathway  meets  the  wanderer's  ken, 

Unless  he  climb,  with  footing  nice, 

A  far  projecting  precipice. 

The  broom's  tough  roots  his  ladder  made, 

The  hazel  saplings  lent  their  aid  ;, 

And  thus  an  airy  point  he  won. 

Where,  gleaming  with  the  setting  sun, 

One  burnish'd  sheet  of  living  gold, 

Loch-Katrine  low  beneath  him  roU'd  ; 


T  H  E    C  H  A  S  E.  25 


In  all  her  length  far  winding  lay, 

With  promontory,  creek,  and  bay. 

And  islands  that,  empurpled  bright, 

Floated  amid  the  livelier  light ; 

And  mountains,  that  like  giants  stand, 

To  sentinel  enchanted  land. 

High  on  the  south  huge  Ben-venue 

Down  on  the  lake  in  masses  threw 

Crags,  knolls,  and  mounds,  confus'dly  hurl'd, 

The  fragments  of  an  earlier  world. 

A  wildering  forest  feather'd  o'er 

His  ruin'd  sides  and  summit  hoar, 

While  on  the  north,  through  middle  air, 

Ben-an  heaved  high  his  forehead  bare. 


XV. 

From  the  steep  promontory  gazed 
The  stranger,  raptured  and  amazed. 
And,  "  What  a  scene  were  here,"  he  cried, 
"  For  princely  pomp  or  churchman's  pride ! 
On  this  bold  brow^  a  lordly  tow^er ; 
In  that  soft  vale  a  lady's  bower  ; 
On  yonder  meadow,  far  away. 
The  turrets  of  a  cloister  gray. 
How  blithely  might  the  bugle  horn 
Chide,  on  the  lake,  the  lingering  morn! 
c 


2fi  THE    LADY    OF   THE    LAKE. 


How  sweet,  at  eve,  the  lover's  lute 
Chime,  when  the  groves  were  still  and  inu< 
And,  when  the  midnight  moon  should  Irmi 
Her  forehead  in  the  silver  wave. 
How  solemn  on  the  ear  would  come 
The  holy  matin's  distant  hum, 
While  the  deep  peal's  commanding  tone 
Should  wake,  in  yonder  islet  lone, 
A  sainted  hermit  from  his  cell. 
To  drop  a  bead  with  every  knell — 
And  bugle,  lute,  and  bell,  and  all, 
Should  each  bewilder'd  stranger  call 
To  friendly  feast,  and  lighted  hall. 

XVI. 

"  Blithe  were  it  then  to  wander  here ! 
But  now, — beshrew  yon  nimble  deer, — 
Like  that  same  hermit's,  thin  and  spare 
The  copse  must  give  my  evening  fare  ; 
Some  mossy  bank  my  couch  must  be, 
Some  rustling  oak  my  canopy. 
Yet  pass  we  that ; — the  war  and  chase 
Give  little  choice  of  resting-place; — 
A  summer  night,  in  green-wood  spent, 
Were  but  to-morrow's  merriment ; 
But  hosts  may  in  these  wilds  abound, 
Such  as  are  better  miss'd  than  found. 


THE    CHASE.  37 

To  meet  with  Highland  plunderers  here 
Were  worse  than  loss  of  steed  or  deer. — 
I  am  alone  ;  my  bugle  strain 
Mav  call  some  straggler  of  the  train  , 
Or,  fall  the  worst  that  may  betide, 
Ere  now  this  faulchion  has  been  tried." 


XVII. 

But  scarce  again  his  horn  he  wound, 

When  lo  !  forth  starting  at  the  sound, 

From  underneath  an  aged  oak. 

That  slanted  from  the  islet  rock, 

A  Damsel,  guider  of  its  way, 

A  little  skiff  shot  to  the  bay, 

That  round  the  promontory  steep 

Led  its  deep  line  in  graceful  sweep, 

Eddying,  in  almost  viewless  wave, 

The  weeping  willow  twig  to  lave, 

And  kiss,  with  whispering  sound  and  slow, 

The  beach  of  pebbles  bright  as  snow. 

The  boat  had  touch'd  this  silver  strand, 

Just  as  the  hunter  left  his  stand, 

And  stood  conceal'd  amid  the  brake. 

To  view  this  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

The  maiden  paused,  as  if  again 

She  thought  to  catch  the  distant  strain. 


28  T  H  E    L  A  D  Y    0  F    T  H  E    L  A  K  E. 


With  head  upraised,  and  look  intent, 
And  eye  and  ear  attentive  bent, 
And  locks  flung  back,  and  lips  apart, 
Like  monument  of  Grecian  art. 
In  list'ning  mood,  she  seem'd  to  stand 
The  guardian  Naiad  of  the  strand. 

XVIII. 

And  ne'er  did  Grecian  chisel  trace 

A  nymph,  a  Naiad,  or  a  Grace, 

Of  finer  form,  or  lovelier  face  ! 

What  though  the  sun,  with  ardent  frown. 

Had  slightly  tinged  her  cheek  with  brown,- 

The  sportive  toil,  which,  short  and  light, 

Had  dyed  her  glowing  hue  so  bright. 

Served  too  in  hastier  swell  to  show 

Short  glimpses  of  a  breast  of  snow. 

What  though  no  rule  of  courtly  grace 

To  measured  mood  had  train'd  her  pace, — 

A  foot  more  light,  a  step  more  true. 

Ne'er  from  the  heath-flower  dash'd  the  dew 

E'en  the  slight  hare-bell  raised  its  head. 

Elastic  from  her  airy  tread. 

What  though  upon  her  speech  there  hung 

The  accents  of  the  mountain  tongue, — 

Those  silver  sounds,  so  soft,  so  dear, 

The  list'ner  held  his  breath  to  hear. 


T  H  E    C  H  A  S  E.  2({ 


XIX. 

A  chieftain's  daughter  seem'd  the  maid ; 

Her  satin  snood,  her  silken  plaid, 

Her  golden  brooch,  such  birth  betray'd. 

And  seldom  was  a  snood  amid 

Such  wild  luxuriant  ringlets  hid, 

Whose  glossy  black  to  shame  might  bring 

The  plumage  of  the  raven's  wing; 

And  seldom  o'er  a  breast  so  fair 

Mantled  a  plaid  with  modest  care, 

And  never  brooch  the  fold  combined 

Above  a  heart  more  good  and  kind. 

Her  kindness  and  her  worth  to  spy. 

You  need  but  gaze  on  Ellen's  eye  ; 

Not  Katrine,  in  her  mirror  blue, 

Gives  back  the  shaggy  banks  more  true, 

Than  every  free-born  glance  confess'd 

The  guileless  movements  of  her  breast ; 

Whether  joy  danced  in  her  dark  eye, 

Or  wo  or  pity  claim'd  a  sigh, 

Or  filial  love  was  glowing  there, 

Or  meek  devotion  pour'd  a  prayer, 

Or  tale  of  injury  call'd  forth 

The  indignant  spirit  of  the  north. 

One  only  passion,  unreveal'd. 

With  maiden  pride  the  maid  conceal'dj 


30  r  U  E    LADY    O  F    T  HE    LA  K  E. 


Yet  not  less  purely  felt  the  flame  :- 
0  need  I  tell  that  passion's  name ! 


XX. 

Impatient  of  the  silent  horn, 

Now  on  the  gale  her  voice  was  borne : 

"  Father!"  she  cried;  the  rocks  around 

Loved  to  prolong  the  gentle  sound. 

Awhile  she  paused,  no  answer  came.— 

"  Malcolm,  was  thine  the  blast  ?"     The  name 

Less  resolutely  utterM  fell, 

The  echoes  could  not  catch  the  swell. 

'•A  stranger  I,"  the  Huntsman  said, 

Advancing  from  the  hazel  shade. 

The  maid,  alarm'd,  with  hast)  oar 

Push'd  her  light  shallop  from  the  shore, 

And  when  a  space  was  gain'd  between, 

Closer  she  drew  her  bosom  screen, 

(So  forth  the  startled  swan  would  swing, 

So  turn  to  prune  his  ruffled  wing ;) 

Then  safe,  though  flutter'd  and  amazed, 

She  paused,  and  on  the  stranger  gazed. 

Not  his  the  form,  nor  his  the  eye, 

That  youthful  maidens  wont  to  fly. 


THE    CHASE.  3! 


XXI. 

Oil  his  bold  visage  middle  age 
Had  slightly  press'd  its  signet  sage, 
Yet  had  not  quench'd  the  open  truth. 
And  fiery  vehemence  of  youth  ; 
Forward  and  frolic  glee  was  there, 
■  The  will  to  do,  the  soul  to  dare. 
The  sparkling  glance,  soon  blown  to  fire. 
Of  hasty  love,  or  headlong  ire. 
His  limbs  were  cast  in  manly  mould, 
For  hardy  sports,  or  contest  bold  ; 
And  though  in  peaceful  garb  array'd, 
And  weaponless,  except  his  blade. 
His  stately  mien  as  well  implied 
A  high-born  heart,  a  martial  pride, 
As  if  a  baron's  crest  he  wore, 
And  sheathed  in  armour  trod  the  short. 
Slighting  the  petty  need  he  show'd, 
He  told  of  his  benighted  road  ; 
His  ready  speech  flow'd  fair  and  free. 
In  phrase  of  gentlest  courtesy  ; 
Yet  seem'd  that  tone,  and  gesture  bland^ 
Loss  used  to  sue  than  to  command. 

XXII. 

Awhile  the  maid  the  Stranger  eyed, 
And,  reassured,  at  length  replied, 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE 


That  Highland  halls  were  open  still 
To  wilcler'd  wanderers  of  the  hill. 
'<  Nor  think  you  unexpected  come 
To  yon  lone  Isle,  our  desert  home  ; 
Before  the  heath  had  lost  the  dew, 
This  morn,  a  couch  was  pull'd  for  you  ; 
On  yonder  mountain's  purple  head 
Have  ptarmigan  and  heath-cock  bled, 
And  our  broad  nets  have  swept  the  mere. 
To  furnish  forth  your  evening  cheer." — 
"Now,  by  the  rood,  my  lovely  maid. 
Your  courtesy  has  err'd,"  he  said: 
"  No  right  have  I  to  claim,  misplaced, 
The  welcome  of  expected  guest. 
A  wanderer  here,  by  fortune  tost, 
My  way,  my  friends,  my  courser  lost, 
I  ne'er  before,  believe  me,  fair. 
Have  ever  drawn  your  mountain  air, 
Till  on  this  lake's  romantic  strand, 
1  found  a  fay  in  fairy  land." — 


XXIH. 

«<  I  well  believe,"  the  maid  replied, 
As  her  light  skiff  approach'd  the  side, — 
"  I  well  believe,  that  ne'er  before 
Your  foot  has  trod  Loch-Katrine's  shore  : 


I 


THECHASE,  33 


But  yet,  as  far  as  yesternight, 

Old  Allan-bane  foretold  your  pliglit, — 

A  gray-hair'd  sire,  whose  eye  intent 

Was  on  the  vision'd  future  bent. 

He  saw  your  steed,  a  dappled  gray, 

Lie  dead  beneath  the  birchen  way ; 

Painted  exact  your  form  and  mien, 

Your  hunting  suit  of  Lincoln  green, 

That  tassell'd  horn  so  gaily  gilt, 

That  faulchion's  crooked  blade  and  hilt, 

That  cap  with  heron  plumage  trim. 

And  yon  two  hounds  so  dark  and  grim. 

He  bade  them  all  should  ready  be, 

To  grace  a  guest  of  fair  degree  ; 

But  light  I  held  his  prophecy, 

And  deern'd  it  was  my  father's  horn. 

Whose  echoes  o'er  the  lalce  were  borne." — 

XXIV. 

The  Stranger  smiled  :• — '<  Since  to  your  home 
A  destined  errant  knight  I  come, 
Announced  by  prophet  sooth  and  old, 
Doom'd,  doubtless,  for  achievement  bold, 
I'll  lightly  front  each  high  emprise. 
For  one  kind  glance  of  those  bright  eyes. 
Permit  me,  first,  the  task  to  guide 
Your  fairy  frigate  o'er  the  tide." — 


34  THELADYOFTHELAKE 

The  maid,  with  smile  suppress'd  and  sly, 

The  toil  unwonted  saw  him  try  ; 

For  seldom,  sure,  if  e'er  before, 

His  noble  hand  had  grasp'd  an  oar : 

Yet  with  main  strength  his  strokes  he  drew, 

And  o'er  the  lake  the  shallop  flew; 

With  heads  erect,  and  whimpering  cry, 

The  hounds  behind  their  passage  ply. 

Nor  frequent  does  the  bright  oar  break 

The  darkening  mirror  of  the  lake, 

Until  the  rocky  isle  they  reach. 

And  moor  their  shallop  on  the  beach. 


XXV. 

The  Stranger  view'd  the  shore  around  ; 
'Twas  all  so  close  with  copse-wood  bound 
Nor  track  nor  pathway  might  declare 
That  human  foot  frequented  there, 
Until  the  mountain-maiden  show'd 
A  clambering  unsuspected  road, 
That  winded  through  the  tangled  screen, 
And  open'd  on  a  narrow  green, 
Where  weeping  birch  and  willow  round 
With  'heir  long  fibres  swept  the  ground 
Here,  for  retreat  in  dangerous  hour. 
Some  chief  had  framed  a  rustic  bower. 


THE    CHASE. 


XXVI. 

It  was  a  lodge  of  ample  size, 

But  strange  of  structure  and  device  ; 

Of  such  materials  as  around 

The  workman's  hand  had  readiest  found. 

liOpp'd  of  their  boughs,  their  hoar  trunks  bared, 

And  by  the  hatchet  rudely  squared, 

To  give  the  walls  their  destined  height. 

The  sturdy  oak  and  ash  unite  ; 

While  moss  and  clay  and  leaves  combined 

To  fence  each  crevice  from  the  wind. 

The  lighter  pine-trees,  over  head, 

Their  slender  length  for  rafters  spread, 

And  wither'd  heath  and  ruslies  dry 

Supplied  a  russet  canopy. 

Due  westward,  fronting  to  the  greeu, 

A  rural  portico  was  seen. 

Aloft  on  native  pillars  borne, 

Of  mountain  fir  with  bark  unshorn. 

Where  Ellen's  hand  had  taught  to  twine 

The  ivy  and  Idsean  vine, 

The  clematis,  the  favour'd  flower 

Which  boasts  the  name  of  virgin-bower, 

And  every  hardy  plant  could  bear 

Loch-Katrine's  keen  and  searching  air. 

An  instant  in  this  porch  she  stay'd, 

And  gaily  to  the  Stranger  said, 


36  THELADYOFTHELAKE. 

"  On  heaven  and  on  thy  lady  call, 
And  enter  the  enchanted  hall!" — 


«  My  hope,  my  heaven,  my  trust  must  be^ 
My  gentle  guide,  in  following  thee." — 
He  cross'd  the  threshold — and  a  clang 
Of  angry  steel  that  instant  rang. 
To  his  bold  brow  his  spirit  rush'd, 
But  soon  for  vain  alarm  he  blush'd, 
When  on  the  floor  he  saw  display'd, 
Cause  of  the  din,  a  naked  blade, 
Dropp'd  from  the  sheath,  that  careless  flung 
Upon  a  stag's  huge  antlers  swung ; 
For  all  around,  the  walls  to  grace. 
Hung  trophies  of  the  fight  or  chase : 
A  target  there,  a  bugle  here, 
A  battle-axe,  a  hunting  spear. 
And  broad-swords,  bows,  and  arrows  storej 
With  the  tusk'd  trophies  of  the  boar. 
Here  grins  the  wolf  as  when  he  died. 
And  there  the  wdld  cat's  brindled  hide 
The  frontlet  of  the  elk  adorns, 
Or  mantles  o'er  the  bison's  horns  ; 
Pennons  and  flags  defaced  and  stain'd, 
That  blackening  streaks  of  blood  retain'd. 


THE    CHASE.  37 

And  deer-skins,  dappled,  dun,  and  white, 
With  otter's  fur  and  seal's,  unite. 
In  rude  and  uncouth  tapestry  all, 
To  garnish  forth  the  sylvan  hall. 

XXVIII. 

The  wondering  Stranger  round  him  gazed, 

And  next  the  fallen  weapon  raised  ; — 

Few  were  the  arms  whose  sinewy  strength 

Sufficed  to  stretch  it  forth  at  length. 

And  as  the  brand  he  pois'd  and  sway'd. 

"I  never  knew  but  one,"  he  said, 

«  Whose  stalwart  arm  might  brook  to  wield 

A  blade  like  this  in  battle-field."— 

Sne  sigh'd,  then  smiled  and  took  the  word ; 

"  You  see  the  guardian  champion's  sword  ; 

As  light  it  trembles  in  his  hand. 

As  in  my  grasp  a  hazel  wand  ; 

My  sire's  tall  form  might  grace  the  f  art 

Of  Ferragus,  or  A'scabart ; 

But  in  the  absent  giant's  hold 

Are  women  now,  and  menials  old.''  — 

.      XXIX. 

The  mistress  of  the  mansion  came. 
Mat  ire  of  age,  a  graceful  dame  ; 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


Whose  easy  step  and  stately  port 

Had  well  become  a  princely  court, 

To  whom  though  more  than  kindreu  knew, 

Young  Ellen  gave  a  mother's  due. 

Meet  welcome  to  her  guest  she  made, 

And  every  courteous  rite  was  paid 

That  hospitality  could  claim, 

Though  all  unask'd  his  birth  and  name. 

Such  then  the  reverence  to  \  guest. 

That  fellest  foe  might  join  the  feast, 

And  from  his  deadliest  foeman's  door 

Unquestion'd  turn,  the  banquet  o'er. 

At  length  his  rank  the  Strang-er  names, 

"The  knight  of  Snowdoun,  James  Fitz-James; 

Lord  of  a  barren  heritage. 

Which  his  brave  sires,  from  age  to  age. 

By  their  good  swords  had  held  with  toil ; 

His  sire  had  fallen  in  such  turmoil. 

And  he,  God  wot,  was  forced  to  stand 

Oft  for  his  right  with  blade  in  hand. 

This  mor  :ing  with  Lord  Moray's  train 

He  chased  a  stalwart  stag  in  vain, 

Outstripp'd  his  comrades,  miss'd  the  deer. 

Lost  his  good  steed,  and  wander'd  here." — 


THE    CHASE.  33 


XXX. 

Fain  would  the  Knight  in  turn  require 
The  name  and  state  of  Ellen's  sire  ; 
Well  show'd  the  elder  lady's  mien, 
That  courts  and  cities  she  had  seen : 
Ellen,  though  more  her  looks  display'd 
The  simple  grace  of  sylvan  maid, 
In  speech  and  gesture,  form  and  face, 
Show'd  she  was  come  of  gentle  race  ; 
'Twere  strange  in  ruder  rank  to  find 
Suchdooks,  such  manners,  and  such  mind. 
Each  hint  the  Knight  of  Snowdoun  gave, 
Dame  Margaret  heard  with  silence  grave ; 
Or  Ellen,  innocently  gay, 
Turn'd  all  inquiry  light  away  ; 
"  Wierd  women  we  !  by  dale  and  down 
We  dwell,  afar  from  tower  and  town. 
We  stem  the  flood,  we  ride  the  blast, 
On  wandering  knights  our  spells  we  cast , 
While  viewless  minstrels  touch  the  string, 
'Tis  thus  our  charmed  rhymes  we  sing." — 
She  sung,  and  still  a  harp  unseen 
Fill'd  up  the  symphony  between 


40  THE    LADY    OF   THE    LAKE. 


XXXI. 

SONG. 

«'  Soldier,  rest !  thy  warfare  o'er, 

Sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  not  breaking  ; 
Dream  of  battled  fields  no  more, 

Days  of  danger,  nights  of  waking. 
In  our  isle's  enchanted  hall, 

Hands  unseen  thy  couch  are  strewing, 
Fairy  strains  of  music  fall, 

Every  sense  in  slumber  dewing. 
Soldier,  rest!  thy  warfare  o'er, 
Dream  of  fighting  fields  no  more  ; 
Sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  not  breakirp, 
Morn  of  toil,  nor  night  of  waking. 

"Xo  rude  sound  shall  reach  thine  ear. 

Armour's  clang,  or  war-steed  champing, 
Trump  nor  pibroch  summon  here 

Mustering  clan,  or  squadron  tramping. 
Vet  the  lark's  shrill  fife  may  come 

At  the  daybreak  from  the  fallow. 
And  the  bittern  sound  his  drum, 

Booming  from  the  sedgy  shallow. 
Ruder  sounds  shall  none  be  near, 
Guards  nor  warders  challenge  here, 
Here's  no  war-steed's  neigh  and  champing, 
Shouting  clans,  or  squadrons  stamping." 


THE    CHASE.  41 


XXXII. 

She  paused — then,  blushing,  led  the  lay 
To  grace  the  stranger  of  the  day. 
Her  mellow  notes  awhile  prolong 
The  cadence  of  the  flowing  song. 
Till  to  her  lips  in  measured  frame 
The  minstrel  verse  spontaneous  came. 

SONG    CONTINUED. 

"  Huntsman,  rest!  thy  chase  is  done, 

While  our  slumbrous  spells  assail  ye, 
Dream  not,  wdth  the  rising  sun, 

Bugles  here  shall  sound  reveillie. 
Sleep  !  the  deer  is  in  his  den  ; 

Sleep !  thy  hounds  are  by  thee  lying ; 
Sleep  !  nor  dream  in  yonder  glen, 

How  thy  gallant  steed  lay  dying. 
Huntsman,  rest ;  thy  chase  is  done, 
Think  not  of  the  rising  sun. 
For  at  dawning  to  assail  ye, 
Here  no  bugles  sound  reveillie." 

XXXIII. 

The  hall  was  clear'd — the  Stranger's  bed 
Was  there  of  mountain  heather  spread. 
Where  oft  an  hundred  guests  had  lain, 
And  drerm'd  their  forest  sports  again. 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


But  vainly  did  the  heath-flower  shed 

Its  moorland  fragrance  round  his  head  ; 

Not  Ellen's  spell  had  lull'd  to  rest 

The  fever  of  his  troubled  breast. 

In  broken  dreams  the  image  rose 

Of  varied  perils,  pains,  and  woes  ; 

His  steed  now  flounders  in  the  brake, 

Now  sinks  his  barge  upon  the  lake ; 

Now  leader  of  a  broken  host, 

His  standard  falls,  his  honour's  lost. 

Then, — from  my  couch  may  heavenly  might 

Chase  that  worse  phantom  of  the  night!— 

Again  return'd  the  scenes  of  youth. 

Of  confident  undoubting  truth ; 

Again  his  soul  he  interchanged 

With  friends  whose  hearts  were  long  estranged. 

They  come,  in  dim  procession  led. 

The  cold,  the  faithless,  and  the  dead ; 

As  warm  each  hand,  each  brow  as  gay, 

As  if  they  parted  yesterday. 

And  doubt  distracts  him  at  the  view, 

0  w^ere  his  senses  false  or  true  ! 

Dream'd  he  of  death,  or  broken  vow, 

Or  is  it  all  a  vision  now ! 


THE    CHASE. 


XXXIV. 

At  length  with  Ellen  in  a  grove 

He  seem'd  to  walk,  and  speak  of  love ; 

She  listen'd  with  a  blush  and  sigh. 

His  suit  was  warm,  his  hopes  were  high. 

He  sought  her  yielded  hand  to  clasp, 

And  a  cold  gauntlet  met  his  grasp : 

The  phantom's  sex  was  changed  and  gone 

Upon  its  head  a  helmet  shone ; 

Slowly  enlarged  to  giant  size. 

With  darken'd  cheek  and  threatening  eyes, 

The  grisly  visage,  stern  and  hoar. 

To  Ellen  still  a  likeness  bore. — 

He  woke,  and,  panting  with  affright, 

RecalPd  the  vision  of  the  night. 

The  hearth's  decaying  brands  were  red, 

And  deep  and  dusky  lustre  shed. 

Half  showing,  half  concealing  all 

The  uncouth  trophies  of  the  hall. 

Mid  those  the  Stranger  fixed  his  eye 

Where  that  huge  faulchion  hung  on  high. 

And  thoughts  on  thoughts,  a  countless  throng, 

Rush'd,  chasing  countless  thoughts  along, 

Until,  the  giddy  whirl  to  cure, 

He  rose,  and  sought  the  moonshine  pure. 


14  THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 


XXXV. 

The  wild  rose,  eglantine,  and  broom, 
Wasted  around  their  rich  perfume  ; 
The  birch  trees  wept  in  fragrant  balm, 
The  aspen  slept  beneath  the  calm ; 
The  silver  light,  wuth  quivering  glance 
Play'd  on  the  water's  still  expanse, — 
Wild  were  the  heart  whose  passion's  yway 
Could  rage  beneath  the  sober  ray  ! 
He  felt  its  calm,  that  warrior  guest, 
While  thus  he  communed  with  his  breas* 
a  W^hy  is  it  at  each  turn  I  trace 
Some  memory  of  that  exiled  race  ? 
Can  I  not  mountain  maiden  spy, 
But  she  inust  bear  the  Douglas  eye  ? 
Can  I  not  view  a  Highland  brand, 
But  it  must  match  the  Douglas  hand  ? 
Can  I  not  frame  a  fever'd  dream, 
But  still  the  Douglas  is  the  theme  ?— 
I'll  dream  no  more — by  manly  mind 
Not  even  in  sleep  is  will  resign'd. 
My  midnight  orisons  s.aid  o'er, 
I'll  turn  to  rest,  and  dream  no  more."— 
His  midnight  orison  he  told, 
A  prayer  with  every  bead  of  gold, 


THE    CHASE,  |5 


Consign'd  to  heaven  his  cares  and  woes. 
And  sunk  m  unclisturb'd  repose  ; 
Until  the  heath-cock  shrilly  crew, 
Asia  morning  dawn'd  vn  Ben-veuu©. 


CANTO  SECOND. 

Crtc  UsIauB- 

I. 

At  morn  the  black-cock  trims  his  jetty  wing. 

'Tis  morning  prompts  the  linnets  blithe.^t  la^ 
All  Nature's  children  feel  the  matin  sprinf^ 

Of  life  reviving,  with  reviving  day  : 
And  while  yon  little  bark  glides  down  the  ba\ 

Wafting  the  Stranger  on  his  way  again, 
Morn's  genial  influence  roused  a  minstrel  gray, 

And  sweetly  o'er  the  lake  w-as  heard  thy  strain, 
Mix'd  wiin  the  sounding  harp,  0  white-hair'd  Allai  Rane' 

n. 

soNr; 

»'  Not  faster  yonder  rowers'  might 
Fling  from  their  oars  the  spray, 
Not  fas-'er  yonder  rippling  bright, 
That  tracks  the  shallop's  course  in  light, 
Melts  in  the  lake  away. 


THE    ISLAND. 


Than  men  from  memory  erase 

The  benefits  of  former  days  ; 

Then,  Stranger,  go  !  good  speed  the  while, 

Nor  think  again  of  the  lonely  isle. 

«  High  place  to  thee  in  royal  court, 

High  place  in  battled  line, 
Good  hawk  and  hound  for  sylvan  sport, 
Where  Beauty  sees  the  brave  resort 

The  honour'd  meed  be  thine  I 
True  be  thy  sword,  thy  friend  sincere, 
Thy  lady  constant,  kind  and  dear, 
And  lost  in  love's  and  friendship's  smile.;, 
Be  memory  of  the  lonely  isle." 


SONG  CONTINUE]). 

"  But  if  beneath  yon  southern  sky 

A  plaided  stranger  roam, 
Whose  drooping  crest  and  stifled  sigh. 
And  sunken  cheek  and  heavy  eye. 

Pine  for  his  Highland  home  ; 
Then,  warrior,  then  be  thine  to  show 
The  care  that  soothes  a  wanderer's  wo 
Remember  then  thy  hap  erewhile, 
A  stranger  in  the  lonely  isle. 


4S  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


"  Or  if  on  life's  uncertain  main 
Mishap  sliall  mar  thy  sail ; 
If,  faithful,  wise,  and  brave  in  vain, 
Wo,  want,  and  exile  thou  sustain 

Beneath  the  fickle  gale  ; 
Waste  not  a  sigh  on  fortune  changed. 
On  thankless  courts,  or  friends  estranged. 
But  come  where  kindred  vrorth  shall  smile. 
To  greet  thee  in  the  lonely  isle." — 

IV. 

As  died  the  sounds  upon  the  tide, 
The  shallop  reach'd  the  main-land  side. 
And  ere  his  onward  way  he  took, 
The  Stranger  cast  a  lingering  look, 
\^^lere  easily  his  eye  might  reach 
The  Harper  on  the  islet  beach, 
Reclined  against  a  blighted  tree, 
As  wasted,  gray,  and  worn  as  he. 
To  minstrel  meditation  given, 
His  reverend  brow  was  raised  to  heaven , 
As  from  the  rising  sun  to  claim 
A  sparkle  of  inspiring  flame. 
His  hand,  reclined  upon  the  wire, 
Seem'd  watching  the  awakening  fire  ; 
So  still  he  sate,  as  those  who  wait 
Till  judgment  speak  the  doom  of  fate  ; 


THE    ISLAND.  40 


So  still,  as  if  no  breeze  might  dare 
To  lift  one  lock  of  hoary  hair ; 
So  still,  as  life  itself  were  fled, 
In  the  last  sound  his  harp  had  sped 

V. 

Upon  a  rock  with  lichens  wild, 
Beside  him  Ellen  sate  and  smiled. 
Smiled  she  to  see  the  stately  drake 
Lead  forth  his  fleet  upon  the  lake, 
While  her  vex'd  spaniel,  from  the  beach. 
Bay'd  at  the  prize  beyond  his  reach  ? 
Yet  tell  me  then  the  maid  who  knows, 
Why  deepen'd  on  her  cheek  the  rose  ? — 
Forgive,  forgive.  Fidelity! 
Perchance  the  maiden  smiled  to  see 
Yon  parting  lingerer  wave  adieu, 
And  stop  and  turn  to  wave  anew ; 
And,  lovely  ladies,  ere  your  ire 
Condemn  the  heroine  of  my  lyre, 
Show  me  the  fair  would  scorn  to  sp) 
And  prize  such  conquest  of  her  eye  ! 


While  yet  he  loiter'd  on  the  spot, 
Tt  seem'd  as  Ellen  mark'd  him  not , 


fHi  THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

But  when  he  turn'd  him  to  the  glaae, 
One  courteous  parting  sign  she  macie ; 
And  after,  oft  the  Knight  would  say, 
That  not  when  prize  of  festal  day 
Was  dealt  him  by  the  brightest  fair, 
Who  e'er  wore  jew^el  in  her  hair. 
So  highly  did  his  bosom  swell, 
As  at  that  simple,  mute  farewell. 
Now  wdth  a  trusty  mountain  guide. 
And  his  dark  stag-hounds  by  his  side, 
He  parts — the  maid,  unconscious  still, 
Watch'd  him  \Yind  slowly  round  the  hiil ; 
But  wdien  his  stately  form  was  hid, 
The  guardian  in  her  bosom  chid — 
"  Thy  Malcolm  !  vain  and  selfish  maid  !" 
'Twas  thus  upbraiding  conscience  said, 
'<  Not  so  had  Malcolm  idly  hung 
On  the  smooth  phrase  of  southern  tongue 
Not  so  had  Malcolm  strain'd  his  eye, 
Another  step  than  thine  to  spy. — 
Wake,  Allan-bane,"  aloud  she  cried, 
To  the  old  Minstrel  by  her  side, 
<<  Arouse  thee  from  thy  moody  dream ! 
I'll  give  thy  harp  heroic  theme, 
And  warm  thee  with  a  noble  name ; 
Pour  forth  the  glory  of  the  Gramme.  •" 


THE    ISLAND.  51 


Scarce  from  her  lip  the  word  had  rush'd, 
When  deep  the  conscious  maiden  bkish'dt 
For  of  his  chn,  in  hall  and  bower, 
Young"  Malc(>lm  Graeme  was  held  the  flower. 


VII. 

The  Minstrel  waked  his  harp — three  times 

Arose  the  well-known  martial  chimes, 

And  thrice  their  high  heroic  pride 

In  melancholy  murmurs  died. 

— ''Vainly  thou  bid'st,  O  noble  maid," 

Clasping  his  wither'd  hands,  he  said, 

'<  Vainly  thou  bid'st  me  wake  the  strain, 

Though  all  unw^ont  to  bid  in  vain. 

Alas !  than  mine  a  mightier  hand 

Has  tuned  my  harp,  my  strings  has  spann'd  ! 

I  touch  the  chords  of  joy,  but  low 

And  mournful  answer  notes  of  wo  ; 

And  the  proud  march  which  victors  tread 

Sinks  in  the  wailing  for  the  dead. — 

0  well  for  me,  if  mine  alone 

That  dirge's  deep  prophetic  tone  ! 

If,  as  my  tuneful  fathers  said, 

This  harp,  w^hich  erst  Saint  Modan  sway'd, 

Can  thus  its  master's  fate  foretell, 

Then  wel(>,ome  be  the  minstrel's  knell ! 


52  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE 

vni. 
"  But  ah !  dear  lady,  thus  it  sigh'd 
The  eve  thy  sainted  mother  died ; 
And  such  the  sounds  which,  ^Yhile  1  strcv  e 
To  wake  a  lay  of  war  or  love, 
Came  marring  all  the  festal  mirth, 
Appalling  me  who  gave  them  birth. 
And,  disobedient  to  my  call, 
Wail'd  loud  through  Bothwell's  banner'd  hall, 
Ere  Douglasses,  to  ruin  driven. 
Were  exiled  from  their  native  heaven. — 
Oh !  if  yet  worse  mishap  and  wo 
My  master's  house  must  undergo, 
Or  aught  but  weal  to  Ellen  fair, 
Brood  in  these  accents  of  despair, 
No  future  bard,  sad  Harp  !  shall  fling 
Triumph  or  rapture  from  thy  string ; 
One  short,  one  final  strain  shall  flow, 
Fraught  with  unutterable  wo, 
Then  shiver'd  shall  thy  fragments  lie, 
Thy  master  cast  him  down  and  die." — 


Mine  honour'd  friend,  the  fears  of  age  ; 

All  melodies  to  thee  are  known. 

That  harp  has  rung,  or  pipe  has  blown, 


THE    ISLAND.  53 


In  Lowland  vale  or  Highland  glen, 

From  Tweed  to  Spey — what  marvel,  then. 

At  times,  unbidden  notes  should  rise, 

Confusedly  bound  in  memory's  ties, 

Entangling,  as  they  rush  along, 

The  war-march  with  the  funeral  song  ? — 

Small  ground  is  now  for  boding  fear  ; 

Obscure,  but  safe,  we  rest  us  here. 

My  sire,  in  native  virtue  great, 

Resigning  lordship,  lands,  and  state. 

Not  then  to  fortune  more  resign'd. 

Than  yonder  oak  might  give  the  wind  : 

The  graceful  foliage  storms  may  reave, 

The  noble  stem  they  cannot  grieve. 

For  me," — she  stoop'd,  and,  looking  round, 

Pluck'd  a  blue  hare-bell  from  the  ground, 

"  For  me,  whose  memory  scarce  conveys 

An  image  of  more  splendid  days. 

This  little  flower  that  loves  the  lea, 

May  well  my  simple  emblem  be  ; 

It  drinks  heaven's  dew  as  blithe  as  rose 

That  in  the  King's  own  garden  grows ; 

And  when  I  place  it  in  my  hair, 

Allan,  a  bard  is  bound  to  swear 

He  ne'er  saw  coronet  so  fair." — 

Then  playfully  the  chaplet  wild 

She  wreathed  in  her  dark  locks,  and  smiled. 


54  THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 

X. 

Her  smile,  her  speech,  with  winning  sway, 

Wiled  the  old  harper's  mood  away. 

With  such  a  look  as  hermits  throw 

When  angels  stoop  to  soothe  their  wo, 

He  gazed  till  fond  regret  and  pride 

Thrill'd  to  a  tear,  then  thus  replied : 

"  Loveliest  and  best !  thou  little  know'st 

The  rank,  the  honours  thou  hast  lost  I 

O  might  I  live  to  see  thee  grace, 

In  Scotland's  court,  thy  birthright  place. 

To  see  my  favourite's  step  advance. 

The  lightest  in  the  courtly  dance, 

The  cause  of  every  gallant's  sigh. 

And  leading  star  of  every  eye, 

And  theme  of  every  minstrel's  art, 

The  Lady  of  the  Bleeding  Heart!"* 


"  Fair  dreams  are  these,"  the  maiden  cried, 
(Light  was  her  accent,  yet  she  sigh'd,) 
"  Yet  is  this  mossy  rock  to  me 
Worth  splendid  chair  and  canopy ; 
Nor  would  my  footstep  spring  more  gay 
In  courtly  dance  than  blithe  strathspey, 


*  Tlie  well-known  cog'nisance  of  the  Douglas  familv. 


THEISLAND.  55 


Nor  half  so  pleased  mine  ear  inciine 
To  royal  minstrel's  lay  as  thine ; 
And  then  for  suitors  proud  and  high, 
To  oend  oefore  my  conquering  eye, 
Thou,  flattering  bard !  thyself  wilt  say, 
That  grim  Sir  Roderick  owns  its  sway. 
The  Saxon  scourge,  Clan- Alpine's  pride, 
The  terror  of  Loch-Lomond's  side, 
Would,  at  my  suit,  thou  know'st,  delav 
A  Lennox  foray — for  a  day." 


The  ancient  bard  his  glee  repress'd  : 
"  111  hast  thou  chosen  theme  for  jest ! 
For  who,  through  all  this  western  wild, 
Named  Black  Sir  Roderick  e'er,  and  smiled  1 
In  Holy-Rood  a  knight  he  slew  ; 
I  saw,  when  back  the  dirk  he  drew, 
Courtiers  give  place  before  the  stride 
Of  the  undaunted  homicide  ; 
And  since,  though  outlaw'd,  hath  his  hand 
Full  sternly  kept  his  mountain  land. 
Who  else  dared  give, — ah !  wo  the  day, 
That  I  such  hated  truth  should  say, — 
The  Douglas,  like  a  stricken  deer, 
Disown'd  by  every  noble  peer, 
Even  the  rude  refuse  we  have  here 


56  THELADYOFTHELAKE. 

Alas,  this  wild  marauding  chief 

Alone  might  hazard  our  relief, 

And  now  thy  maiden  charms  expand, 

Looks  for  his  guerdon  in  thy  hand  ; 

Full  soon  may  dispensation  sought. 

To  back  his  suit,  from  Rome  be  brought. 

Then  though  an  exile  on  the  hill, 

Thy  father,  as  the  Douglas,  still 

Be  held  in  reverence  and  fear ; 

And  though  to  Roderick  thou'rt  so  dear, 

That  thou  might'st  guide  with  silken  thread. 

Slave  of  thy  will,  this  chieftain  dread  ; 

Yet,  0  loved  maid,  thy  mirth  refrain ! 

Thy  hand  is  on  a  lion's  mane." 

XIII. 

"  Minstrel,"  the  maid  replied,  and  high 
Her  father's  soul  glanced  from  her  eye, 
i(  My  debts  to  Roderick's  house  I  know  : 
All  that  a  mother  could  bestow, 
To  Lady  Margaret's  care  I  owe, 
Since  first  an  orphan  in  the  wild 
She  sorrow'd  o'er  her  sister's  child : 
To  her  brave  chieftain  son,  from  ire 
Of  Scotland's  King  who  shrouds  my  sire, 
A  deeper,  holier  debt  is  owed  : 
And,  could  I  pay  it  witli  my  blood, 


THE    ISLAND.  57 

Allan !  Sir  Roderick  should  command 
My  blood,  my  life, — but  not  my  hand. 
Rather  will  Ellen  Douglas  dwell 
A  votaress  in  Maronnan's  cell ; 
Rather  through  realms  beyond  the  sea, 
Seeking  the  world's  cold  charity, 
Where  ne'er  was  spoke  a  Scottish  word, 
And  ne'er  the  name  of  Douglas  heard, 
An  outcast  pilgrim  will  she  rove, 
Than  w^ed  the  man  she  cannot  love. 


XIV. 

((  Thou  shakest,  good  friend,  thy  tresses  gray 

That  pleading  look,  what  can  it  say 

But  what  I  own? — I  grant  him  brave. 

Bat  wild  as  Bracklinn's  thundering  wave; 

And  generous — save  vindictive  mood. 

Or  jealous  transport,  chafe  his  blood  ; 

I  grant  him  true  to  friendly  band, 

As  his  claymore  is  to  his  hand  ; 

But  0  !  that  very  blade  of  steel 

More  mercy  for  a  foe  would  feel; 

I  grant  him  liberal,  to  fling 

Among  his  clan  the  wealth  they  bring. 

When  back  by  lake  and  glen  they  w^ind, 

And  in  the  Lowland  leave  behind, 


5S  THE    LADYOF    THE    LAKE. 


Where  once  some  pleasant  hamlet  stood, 

A  mass  of  ashes  slaked  with  blnod. 

The  hand  that  for  my  father  fought, 

I  honour,  as  his  daughter  ought  ? 

But  can  I  clasp  it  reeking  red, 

From  peasants  slaughter'd  in  their  shed  ? 

No  !  wildly  while  his  virtues  gleam, 

They  make  his  passions  darker  seem, 

And  flash  along  his  spirit  high, 

Like  lightning  o'er  the  midnight  sky. 

While  yet  a  child, — and  children  know, 

Instinctive  taught,  the  friend  arid  foe, — 

I  shudder'd  at  his  brow  of  gloom, 

His  shadowy  plaid,  and  sable  plume ; 

A  maiden  grown,  I  ill  could  bear 

His  haughty  mien  and  lordly  air ; 

But,  if  thou  join'st  a  suitor's  claim. 

In  serious  mood,  to  Roderick's  name, 

I  thrill  with  anguish  !  or,  if  e'er 

A  Douglas  knew  the  word,  with  fear. 

To  change  such  odious  theme  were  best — 

\Miat  think'st  thou  of  our  stranger  jruest  ?" 


XV. 

'<\Miat  think  I  of  him? — wo  the  while 
That  brought  such  wanderer  to  our  isle 


THE    ISLAND. 


Thy  father's  battle-brand,  of  yore 

For  Tineman  forged  by  fairy  lore, 

What  time  he  leagued,  no  longer  foes, 

His  border  spears  with  Hotspur's  bows, 

Did,  self-unscabbarded,  foreshow 

The  footstep  of  a  secret  foe. 

If  courtly  spy  had  harbour'd  here. 

What  may  we  for  the  Douglas  fear  ? 

What  for  this  island,  deem'd  of  old 

Clan-Alpine's  last  and  surest  hold  ! 

If  neither  spy  nor  foe,  I  pray 

What  yet  may  jealous  Roderick  say? 

— Nay,  wave  not  thy  disdainful  head  ! 

Bethink  thee  of  the  discord  dread, 

That  kindled  when  at  Beltane  game 

Thou  led'st  the  dance  with  Malcolm  Grsem'? : 

Still,  though  thy  sire  the  peace  renew'd, 

Smoulders  in  Roderick's  breast  the  feud ; 

Beware  ! — But  hark,  what  sounds  are  these? 

My  dull  ears  catch  no  faltering  breeze, 

No  weeping  birch,  nor  aspens  wake, 

Nor  breath  is  dimpling  in  the  lake, 

Still  is  the  canna's*  hoary  beard, 

Yet,  by  my  minstrel  faith,  I  heard — 

And  hark  again  ! — some  pipe  of  war 

Sends  the  bold  pibroch  from  afar." 


Cotton-grass. 


so  THE    LADY    OF   THE    LAKE. 


XVI. 

Far  up  the  leugthen'd  lake  were  spied 
Four  darkening  specks  upon  the  tide, 
That,  slow,  enlarging  on  the  view, 
Four  mann'd  and  masted  barges  grew, 
And  bearing  downwards  from  Glengyle* 
Steer'd  full  upon  the  lonely  isle  ; 
The  point  of  Brianchoil  they  pass'd, 
And,  to  the  windward  as  they  cast, 
Against  the  sun  they  gave  to  shine 
The  bold  Sir  Roderick's  banner'd  Pine. 
Nearer  and  nearer  as  they  bear, 
Spears,  pikes,  and  axes  flash  in  air. 
Now  might  you  see  the  tartans  brave, 
And  plaids  and  plumage  dance  and  wave  ; 
Now  see  the  bonnets  sink  and  rise, 
As  his  tough  oar  the  rower  plies  ; 
See  flashing  at  each  sturdy  stroke, 
The  wave  ascending  into  smoke  ; 
See  the  proud  pipers  on  the  bow, 
And  mark  the  gaudy  streamers  flow 
From  their  loud  chanters*  down,  and  sweep 
The  furrow'd  bosom  of  the  deep, 
As  rushing  through  the  lake  amain, 
They  plied  the  ancient  Highland  stram. 


*  The  drone  of  the  bag-pipe. 


THE    ISLAND.  «I 


XVII. 

Ever,  as  on  they  bore,  more  loud 

And  louder  rung  the  pibroch  proud. 

At  first  the  sound,  by  distance  tame, 

Mellow'd  along  the  waters  came. 

And  lingering  long  by  cape  and  bay, 

Wail'd  every  harsher  note  away  ; 

Then  bursting  bolder  on  the  ear, 

The  clan's  shrill  Gathering  they  could  hear ; 

Those  thrilling  sounds,  that  call  the  might 

Of  old  Clan- Alpine  to  the  fight. 

Thick  beat  the  rapid  notes,  as  when 

The  mustering  hundreds  shake  the  glen, 

And  hurrying  at  the  signal  dread. 

The  batter'd  earth  returns  their  treaa. 

Then  prelude  light,  of  livelier  tone, 

Express'd  their  merry  marching  on, 

Ere  peal  of  closing  battle  rose. 

With  mingled  outcry,  shrieks,  and  blows; 

And  mimic  din  of  stroke  and  ward, 

As  broadsword  upon  target  jarr'd  ; 

And  groaning  pause,  ere  yet  again, 

Condensed,  the  battle  yell'd  amain  ; 

The  rapid  charge,  the  rallying  shout, 

Retreat  borne  headlong  into  rout. 

And  bursts  of  triumph,  to  declare 

Clan-Alpine's  conquest — all  were  there. 

F 


f52        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


Nor  ended  thus  the  strain  ;  but  slow. 
Sunk  in  a  moan  prolong'd  and  low, 
And  changed  the  conquering  clarion  sv/elJ, 
For  wild  lament  o'er  those  that  fell. 

XVIII 

The  war-pipes  ceased  ;  but  lake  and  hill 
Were  busy  with  their  echoes  still ; 
And,  when  they  slept,  a  vocal  strain  - 
Bade  their  hoarse  chorus  wake  again, 
While  loud  a  hundred  clansmen  raise 
Their  voices  in  their  Chieftain's  praise. 
Each  boatmen,  bending  to  his  oar, 
With  measured  sweep  the  burden  bore, 
In  such  wild  cadence  as  the  breeze 
Makes  through  December's  leafless  trees. 
The  chorus  first  could  Allan  know, 
"  Roderich  Vich  Alpine,  ho  !  iro  !" 
And  near,  and  nearer  as  they  row'd, 
Distinct  the  martial  ditty  flo^v'd. 

XIX. 

BOAT    SONG. 

Hail  to  the  Chief  who  in  triumph  acivouces! 

Honour'd  and  bless'd  be  the  ever-green  Pine ! 
Long  may  the  Tree  in  his  banner  that  glances, 
Flourish,  the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line  ! 


THE    ISLAND.  63 


Heaven  send  it  happy  dew, 

Earth  lend  it  sap  enew, 
Gaily  to  bourgeon,  and  broadly  to  grew  ; 

While  every  Highland  glen 

Sends  our  shout  back  again, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieioe  !' 


Ours  IS  no  sapling,  chance-sown  by  the  ibuntain. 

Blooming  at  Beltane,  in  winter  to  fade  : 
When  the  whirlwind  has  stripp'd  every  leaf  on  the  mountain 
The  more  shall  Clan-Alpine  exult  in  her  shade. 

?.Ioor'd  in  the  rifted  rock, 

Proof  to  the  tempest's  shock, 
Firmer  he  roots  him  the  ruder  it  blow  ; 

Menteith  and  Breadalbane,  then. 

Echo  his  praise  again, 
'<  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !" 


XX. 

Proudly  our  pibroch  has  trill'd  in  Glen  Fruin, 

And  Banochar's  groans  to  our  Slogan  replied  ; 
Glen  Luss  and  Ross-Dhu,  they  are  smoking  in  ruin, 
And  the  best  of  Loch-Lomond  lie  dead  on  hfr  side, 
Widow  and  Saxon  maid 
Long  shall  lament  our  raid. 


64  THE    LADY    OF    T  H  i:    LAKE. 

Think  of  Clan-Alpine  with  fear  and  with  wo : 

Lennox  and  Leven-glen 

Shake  when  they  hear  again, 
''  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !" 

Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  Highlands ! 

Stretch  to  your  oars,  for  the  ever-green  Pine  ! 
0 !  that  the  rose-bud  that  graces  yon  islands 

Were  wTeathed  in  a  garland  around  him  to  twine. 
0  that  some  seedling  gem, 
Worthy  such  noble  stem, 
Honour'd  and  bless'd  in  their  shadow,  might  grow  ! 
Loud  should  Clan-Alpine  then 
Ring  from  her  deepmost  glen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !" 

XXI. 

With  all  her  joyful  female  band. 
Had  Lady  Margaret  sought  the  strand. 
Loose  on  the  breeze  their  tresses  flew, 
And  high  their  snowy  arms  they  threvv', 
As  echoing  back  v/itli  shrill  acclaim, 
And  chorus  wild,  the  Chieftain's  name  ; 
While,  prompt  to  please,  with  mother's  art, 
The  darling  passion  of  his  heart, 
The  dame  call'd  Ellen  to  the  strand 
To  greet  her  kinsman  ere  he  land : 


THE    ISLxVND.  65 


Come,  loiterer,  come !  a  Douglas  thou, 

And  shun  to  wreathe  a  victor's  brow?" 

Reluctantly  and  slow,  the  maid 

Th'  unwelcome  summoning  obey'd, 

And,  when  a  distant  bugle  rung. 

In  the  mid-path  aside  she  sprung : 

"  List,  Allan-bane!     From  main-lanrl  cast, 

T  hear  my  father's  signal  blast. 

Be  ours,"  she  cried,  <<the  skifTto  guide, 

And  waft  him  from  the  mountain  side." 

Then,  like  a  sunbeam,  swift  and  bright, 

She  darted  to  her  shallop  light, 

And,  eagerly  while  Roderick  scann'd, 

For  her  dear  form,  his  mother's  band, 

The  islet  far  behind  her  lay, 

And  she  had  landed  in  the  bay. 


XXII. 

Some  feelings  are  to  mortals  given 

With  less  of  earth  in  them  than  heaven 

And  if  there  be  a  human  tear 

From  passion's  dross  refined  and  clear, 

A  tear  so  limpid  and  so  meek, 

It  would  not  stain  an  angel's  cheek, 

'Tis  that  which  pious  fathers  shed 

Upon  a  duteous  daughter's  head ! 


66  THELADYOFTHELAKE, 


And  as  the  Douglas  to  his  breast 
His  darling  Ellen  closely  press'd, 
Such  holy  drops  her  tresses  steep'd, 
Though  'twas  an  hero's  eye  that  weep'd 
Nor,  while  on  Ellen's  faltering  tongue 
Her  filial  welcomes  crowded  hung, 
Mark'd  she,  that  fear  (affection's  proof) 
Still  held  a  graceful  youth  aloof; 
No  !  not  till  Douglas  named  his  name, 
Although  the  youth  was  Malcolm  Grseme. 


XXIII. 

Allan,  with  wistful  look  the  while, 

Mark'd  Roderick  landing  on  the  isle  ; 

His  master  piteously  he  eyed, 

Then  gazed  upon  the  Chieftain's  priile, 

Then  dash'd,  with  hasty  hand,  away 

From  his  dimm'd  eye  the  gathering  spray  ; 

And  Douglas,  as  his  hand  he  laid 

On  Malcolm's  shoulder,  kindly  said, 

"  Canst  thou,  young  friend,  no  meaning  spy 

In  my  puor  follow^er's  glistening  eye  ? 

I'll  tell  thee  : — he  recalls  the  day, 

When  in  my  praise  he  led  the  lay 

O'er  the  arch'd  gate  of  Bothwell  proud, 

While  many  a  minstrel  answer'd  loud, 


THE    ISLAND.  67 


When  Percy's  Norman  pennon,  won 

In  bloody  field,  before  me  shone, 

And  twice  ten  knights,  the  least  a  name 

As  mighty  as  yon  chief  may  claim, 

Gracing  my  pomp,  behind  me  came. 

Yet  trust  me,  Malcolm,  not  so  proud 

Was  I  of  all  that  marshall'd  crowd. 

Though  the  waned  crescent  own'd  my  might, 

And  in  my  train  troop'd  lord  and  knight. 

Though  Blantyre  hymn'd  her  holiest  lays, 

And  Bothwell's  bards  flung  back  my  praise, 

As  when  this  old  man's  silent  tear. 

And  this  poor  maid's  affection  dear, 

A  welcome  give  more  kind  and  true 

Than  aught  my  better  fortunes  kneM\ 

Forgive,  my  friend,  a  father's  boast ; 


XXIV. 

Delightful  praise  ! — like  summer  rose, 
That  brighter  in  the  dew-drop  glows, 
The  bashful  maiden's  cheek  appear'd. 
For  Douglas  spoke,  and  Malcolrri  heard. 
The  flush  of  shamefaced  joy  to  hide, 
The  hounds,  the  hawk,  her  cares  divide  ; 
The  loved  caresses  of  the  maid 
The  dogs  with  crouch  and  whimper  paid  ; 


THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 


And,  at  her  whistle,  on  her  hand 
The  falcon  took  his  favourite  stand. 
Closed  his  dark  wing,  relax'd  his  eye, 
Nor,  though  unhooded,  sought  to  fly. 
And,  trust,  while  in  such  guise  she  stood. 
Like  fabled  Goddess  of  tiie  Wood, 
That  if  a  father's  partial  thought 
O'erweigh'd  her  worth  and  beauty  aught, 
Well  might  the  lover's  judgment  fail 
To  balance  with  a  juster  scale  ; 
For  with  each  secret  glance  he  stole, 
The  fond  enthusiast  sent  his  soul. 


XXV. 

Of  stature  fair,  and  slender  frame, 
But  firmly  knit,  was  Malcolm  Gramme  ; 
The  belted  plaid  and  tartan  hose 
Did  ne'er  more  graceful  limbs  disclose  ; 
His  flaxen  hair,  of  sunny  hue, 
Curl'd  closely  round  his  bonnet  blue. 
Train'd  to  the  chase,  his  eagle  eye 
The  ptarmigan  in  snow  could  spy ; 
Each  pass,  by  mountain,  lake,  and  heath, 
He  knew,  through  Lennox  and  Menteith  ,* 
Vain  was  the  bound  of  dark-brown  doe, 
When  Malcolm  bent  his  sounding  bow, 


THE    ISLAND. 


And  scarce  that  doe,  though  wing'd  with  fear, 

Outstripp'd  in  speed  the  mountaineer  : 

Right  up  Ben-Lomond  could  he  press, 

And  not  a  sob  his  toil  confess. 

His  form  accorded  with  a  mind 

liively  and  ardent,  frank  and  kind  ; 

A  blither  heart,  till  Ellen  came. 

Did  never  love  nor  sorrow  tame. 

It  danced  as  lightsome  in  his  breast. 

As  play'd  the  feather  on  his  crest. 

Yet  friends,  who  nearest  knew  the  youth, 

His  scorn  of  wrong,  his  zeal  for  truth, 

And  bards,  who  saw  his  features  bold, 

When  kindled  by  the  tales  of  old. 

Said,  were  that  youth  to  manhood  grown, 

Not  long  should  Roderick  Dhu's  renown 

Be  foremost  voiced  by  mountain  fame, 

But  quail  to  that  of  Malcolm  Graeme. 

XXVI. 

Now  back  they  wend  their  watery  way 
And,  "  0  my  sire !"  did  Ellen  say, 
<<  Why  urge  thy  chase  so  far  astray? 
And  why  so  late  return'd?     And  why"— 
The  rest  was  in  her  speaking  eye. 
"My  child,  the  chase  I  follow  far, 
'Tis  mimicry  of  noble  war  ; 


70  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 


And  \vith  that  gallant  pastime  reft, 
Were  all  of  Douglas  I  have  left. 
I  met  young  Malcolm  as  I  stray'd 
Far  eastw^ard,  in  Glenfinlas'  shade, 
Nor  stray'd  I  safe,  for,  all  around, 
Hunters  and  horsemen  scour'd  the  ground. 
This  youth,  though  still  a  royal  ward, 
Risqued  life  and  land  to  be  my  guard. 
And  through  the  passes  of  the  wood 
Guided  my  steps,  not  unpursued ; 
And  Roderick  shall  his  welcome  make. 
Despite  old  spleen,  for  Douglas'  sake. 
Then  must  he  seek  Strath-Endrick  glen, 
Nor  peril  aught  for  me  again." 


XXVII. 

Sir  Roderick,  who  to  meet  them  came, 
Redden'd  at  sight  of  Malcolm  Graeme, 
Yet,  not  in  action,  word,  or  eye, 
Fail'd  aught  in  hospitality. 
In  talk  and  sport  they  whiled  away 
The  morning  of  that  summer  day ; 
But  at  high  noon  a  courier  light 
Held  secret  parley  with  the  Knight, 
Whose  moody  aspect  soon  declared, 
That  evil  were  the  news  he  heard. 


THE    ISLAND.  71 


Deep  thought  seera'd  toiling  in  his  head  : 
Yet  was  the  evening  banquet  made. 
Ere  he  assembled  round  the  flame, 
His  mother,  Douglas,  and  the  Graeme, 
And  Ellen,  too  ;  then  cast  around 
His  eyes,  then  fix'd  them  on  the  ground, 
As  studying  phrase  that  might  avail 
Best  to  convey  unpleasant  tale. 
Long  with  his  dagger's  hilt  he  play'd, 
Then  raised  his  haughty  brow,  and  said  : 


"Short  be  my  speech;' — nor  time  affords. 

Nor  my  plain  temper,  glozing  words. 

Kinsman  and  father, — if  such  name 

Douglas  vouchsafe  to  Roderick's  claim  ; 

Mine  honour'd  mother ;  Ellen — why, 

My  cousin,  turn  away  thine  eye  ? — 

And  Graeme  ;  in  whom  I  hope  to  know 

Full  soon  a  noble  friend  or  foe, 

When  age  shall  give  thee  thy  command, 

And  leading  in  thy  native  land, — 

List  all ! — The  King's  vindictive  pride 

Boasts  to  have  tamed  the  border  side, 

Where  chiefs,  with  hound  and  hawk  who  came 

To  share  their  monarch's  sylvan  game. 

Themselves  in  bloody  toils  were  snared. 


72  THELADYOFTHELAKE. 


And  when  the  banquet  they  prepared, 

And  wide  their  loyal  portals  flung, 

O'er  their  own  gateway  struggling  hung. 

Loud  cries  their  blood  from  Meggat's  mead, 

From  Yarrow  braes,  and  banks  of  Tweed, 

"Where  the  lone  streams  of  Ettricke  glide, 

And  from  the  silver  Teviot's  side  ; 

The  dales,  where  martial  clans  did  ride, 

Are  now  one  sheepwalk  waste  and  wide. 

This  tyrant  of  the  Scottish  throne, 

So  faithless,  and  so  ruthless  known, 

Now  hither  comes;  his  end  the  same. 

The  same  pretext  of  sylvan  game. 

What  grace  for  Highland  chiefs  judge  ye, 

By  fate  of  Border  chivalry. 

Yet  more  ;  amid  Glenfinlas  green, 

Douglas,  thy  stately  form  was  seen. 

This  by  espial  sure  I  know  : 

Your  counsel  in  the  strait  I  show." 


Ellen  and  Margaret  fearfully 

Sought  comfort  in  each  other's  eye, 

Then  turn'd  their  ghastly  look,  each  one 

This  to  her  sire,  that  to  her  son. 

The  hasty  colour  went  and  came 

In  the  bold  cheek  of  Malcolm  Graeme  ; 


THE    ISLAND.  TJ 


Bui  from  his  glance  it  well  appear'd, 
'Twas  but  for  Ellen  that  he  fear'd  ; 
While  sorrowful,  but  undismay'd, 
The  Douglas  thus  his  counsel  said  : 
"Brave  Roderick,  though  the  tempest  roar 
It  may  but  thunder  and  pass  o'er ; 
Nor  will  I  here  remain  an  hour, 
To  draw  the  lightning  on  thy  bower ; 
For  well  thou  know'st,  at  this  gray  head 
The  royal  bolt  were  fiercest  sped. 
For  thee,  who,  at  thy  Kmg's  command, 
Canst  aid  him  with  a  gallant  band, 
Submission,  homage,  humbled  pride, 
Shall  turn  the  Monarch's  wrath  aside. 
Poor  remnants  of  the  Bleeding  Heart, 
Ellen  and  I  will  seek,  apart. 
The  refuge  of  some  forest  cell ; 
There,  like  the  hunted  quarry,  dwell, 
Till,  on  the  mountain  and  the  moor, 
The  stern  pursuit  be  past  and  o'er." 


XXX. 

«  No,  by  mine  honour,"  Roderick  said, 
'<  So  help  me,  heaven,  and  my  good  blade! 
No.  never!     Blasted  be  yon  pine, 
My  father's  ancient  crest,  and  mine, 


74  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

If  from  its  shade  in  danger  part 

The  lineage  of  the  Bleeding  Heart ! 

Hear  my  blunt  speech :  grant  me  this  maid 

To  wife,  thy  counsel  to  mine  aid ; 

To  Douglas,  leagued  with  Roderick  Dhu, 

Will  friends  and  allies  flock  enew. 

Like  cause  of  doubt,  distrust,  and  grief, 

Will  bind  to  us  each  western  chief. 

When  the  loud  pipes  my  bridal  tell, 

The  Links  of  Forth  shall  hear  the  knell. 

The  guards  shall  start  in  Stirling's  porch  ; 

And,  when  I  light  the  nuptial  torch, 

A  thousand  villages  in  flames, 

Shall  scare  the  slumbers  of  King  James ! 

— Nay,  Ellen,  blench  not  thus  away, 

And,  mother,  cease  these  signs,  I  pray ; 

I  meant  not  all  my  heat  might  say. 

Small  need  of  inroad,  or  of  fight, 

\Mien  the  sage  Douglas  may  unite 

Each  mountain  clan  in  friendly  band, 

To  guard  the  passes  of  the  land, 

Till  the  foil'd  King  from  pathless  glen, 

Shall  bootless  turn  him  home  again." 

XXXI. 

There  are  who  have,  at  midnight  hour, 
In  slumber  scaled  a  dizzy  tower 


THE    ISLAND. 


And,  on  the  verge  that  beetled  o'er 

The  ocean-tide's  incessant  roar, 

Dream'd  cahnly  out  their  dangerous  dream, 

Till  waken'd  by  the  morning  beam  ; 

When,  dazzled  by  the  eastern  glow, 

Such  startler  cast  his  glance  below, 

And  saw  unmeasured  depth  around, 

And  heard  unintermitted  sound, 

And  thought  the  battled  fence  so  frail. 

It  waved  like  cobweb  in  the  gale  ; — 

Amid  his  senses'  giddy  wheel. 

Did  he  not  desperate  impulse  feel. 

Headlong  to  plunge  himself  below. 

And  meet  the  worst  his  fears  foreshow  ? — 

Thus,  Ellen,  dizzy  and  astound, 

As  sudden  ruin  yawn'd  around. 

By  crossing  terrors  wildly  toss'd, 

Still  for  the  Douglas  fearing  most, 

Could  scarce  the  desperate  thought  withstand, 

To  buy  his  safety  with  her  hand. 


S:ich  purpose  dread  could  Malcolm  spy 
In  Ellen's  quivering  lip  and  eye, 
And  eager  rose  to  speak — but  ere 
His  tongue  could  hurry  forth  his  fear, 


THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 

Had  Douglas  mark'd  the  hectic  strife, 
Where  death  seem'd  combating  with  Jiie  ; 
For  to  her  cheek,  in  feverish  flood. 
One  instant  rush'd  the  throbbing  blood. 
Then  ebbing  back,  with  sudden  sway, 
Left  its  domain  as  wan  as  clay. 
"  Roderick,  enough  !  enough  !"  he  cried, 
«<My  daughter  cannot  be  thy  bride  ; 
Not  that  the  blush  to  w^ooer  dear, 
Nor  paleness  that  of  maiden  fear. 
It  may  not  be — forgive  her,  Chief, 
Nor  hazard  aught  for  our  relief. 
Against  his  sovereign  Douglas  ne'er 
Will  level  a  rebellious  spear. 
'Twas  I  that  taught  his  youthful  hand 
To  rein  a  steed  and  wield  a  brand  ; 
I  see  him  yet  the  princely  boy ! 
Not  Ellen  more  my  pride  and  joy. 
I  love  him  still,  despite  my  wrongs. 
By  hasty  wrath,  and  slanderous  tongues. 
0  seek  the  grace  you  well  may  find, 
Without  a  cause  to  mine  combined." 


XXXIII. 

Twice  through  the  hall  the  Chieftain  strode  ; 
The  waving  of  his  tartans  broad, 


THE    ISLAND.  77 


And  darken'd  brow,  where  wounded  pride 
With  ire  and  disappointment  vied, 
Seem'd,  by  the  torch's  gloomy  light. 
Like  the  ill  Demon  of  the  night, 
Stooping  his  pinions'  shadowy  sway 
Upon  the  nighted  pilgrim's  way: 
But,  unrequited  Love  !  thy  dart 
Plunged  deepest  its  envenom'd  smart. 
And  Roderick,  with  thine  anguish  stung. 
At  length  the  hand  of  Douglas  wrung, 
While  eyes,  that  mock'd  at  tears  before, 
With  bitter  drops  were  running  o'er. 
The  death-pangs  of  long-cherish'd  hope 
Scarce  in  that  ample  breast  had  scope, 
But,  struggling  with  his  spirit  proud, 
Convulsive  heaved  its  checker' d  shroud, 
While  every  sob — so  mute  were  all — 
Was  heard  distinctly  through  the  hall. 
The  son's  despair,  the  mother's  look, 
111  might  the  gentle  Ellen  brook ; 
She  rose,  and  to  her  side  there  came. 
To  aid  her  parting  steps,  the  Grseme. 


Then  Roderick  from  the  Douglas  broke- 
As  flashes  flam*^  through  sable  smoke, 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


Kindling  its  wreaths,  long,  dark,  and  low, 

To  one  broad  blaze  of  ruddy  glow, 

So  the  deep  anguish  of  despair 

Burst,  in  fierce  jealousy,  to  air. 

With  stalwart  grasp  his  hand  he  laid 

On  Malcolm's  breast  and  belted  plaid : 

"  Back,  beardless  boy  !"  he  sternly  said, 

"  Back  minion  !  hold'st  thou  thus  at  naught 

The  lesson  I  so  lately  taught  ? 

This  roof,  the  Douglas,  and  that  maid. 

Thank  thou  for  punishment  delay'd." 

Eager  as  greyhound  on  his  game, 

Fiercely  with  Roderick  grappled  Graeme. 

<' Perish  my  name,  if  aught  afford 

Its  chieftain  safety  save  his  sword  !'" 

Thus  as  they  strove,  their  desperate  hand 

Griped  to  the  dagger  or  the  brand, 

And  death  had  been — but  Douglas  rose, 

And  thrust  between  the  struggling  foes 

His  giant  strength: — '<  Chieftains,  forego  ! 

I  hold  the  first  who  strikes,  my  foe. 

Madmen,  forbear  your  frantic  jar ! 

What !  is  the  Douglas  fallen  so  far, 

His  daughter's  hand  is  deem'd  the  spoil 

Of  such  dishonourable  broil!" 

Sullen  and  slowly,  they  unclasp, 

As  struck  with  shame,  their  desperate  grasp, 


THE    ISLAND.  79 


And  each  upon  his  rival  glared, 

With  foot  advanced,  and  blade  half  bared. 


XXXV. 

Ere  yet  the  brands  aloft  were  flung, 
Margaret  on  Roderick's  mantle  hung, 
And  Malcolm  heard  his  Ellen's  scream, 
As  falter'd  through  terrific  dream. 
Then  Roderick  plunged  in  sheath  his  sword, 
And  veil'd  his  wrath  in  scornful  word. 
"  Rest  safe  till  morning  ;  pity  'twere 
Such  cheek  should  feel  the  midnight  air ! 
Then  mayst  thou  to  James  Stuart  tell, 
Roderick  will  keep  the  lake  and  fell, 
Nor  lackey,  with  his  free-born  clan, 
The  pageant  pomp  of  earthly  man. 
More  would  he  of  Clan- Alpine  know, 
Thou  canst  our  strength  and  passes  show.-- 
Malise,  what  ho  !" — his  henchman  came; 
''Give  our  safe  conduct  to  the  Groeme." 
Young  Malcolm  answer'd,  calm  and  bold, 
"  Fear  nothing  for  thy  favourite  hold  ; 
The  spot,  an  angel  deign'd  to  grace, 
Is  bless'd,  though  robbers  haunt  the  ]ilace 
Thy  churlish  courtesy  for  those 
Reserve,  who  fear  to  be  thy  foes. 


so  THE    LADY    OF   THE    LAKE. 

As  safe  to  me  the  mountain  way 
At  midnight  as  in  blaze  of  day, 
Though  with  his  boldest  at  his  back. 
Even  Roderick  Dhu  beset  the  track. — 
Brave  Douglas, — lovely  Ellen, — nay. 
Nought  here  of  parting  will  I  say. 
Earth  does  not  hold  a  lonesome  glen 
So  secret  but  we  meet  again. — 
Chieftain!  we  too  shall  find  an  hour.*^- 
He  said,  and  left  the  sylvan  bower. 


xxxvr. 
Old  Allan  folio w'd  to  the  strand, 
(Such  was  the  Douglas's  command,) 
And  anxious  told,  how,  on  the  morn, 
The  stern  Sir  Roderick  deep  had  sworn, 
The  Fiery  Cross  should  circle  o'er 
Dale,  glen,  and  valley,  down  and  moor. 
Much  were  the  peril  to  the  Grseme, 
From  those  who  to  the  signal  came  ; 
Far  up  the  lake  'twere  safest  land. 
Himself  would  row  him  to  the  strand. 
He  gave  his  counsel  to  the  wind, 
While  ^lalcolm  did,  unheeding,  bind. 
Round  dirk  and  pouch  and  broadsword  roJI'd, 
His  ample  plaid  in  tighten'd  fold, 


THE    ISLAND.  81 


And  stripp'd  his  limbs  to  such  array, 
As  best  might  suit  the  watery  way. 


XXXVII. 

Then  spoke  abrupt :  "  Farewell  to  thee. 
Pattern  of  old  fidelity  !" 
The  minstrel's  hand  he  kindly  press'd, — 
<'  O  !  could  I  point  a  place  of  rest ! 
My  sovereign  holds  in  ward  my  land, 
My  uncle  leads  my  vassal  band; 
To  tame  his  foes,  his  friends  to  aid, 
Poor  Malcolm  has  but  heart  and  blade. 
Yet,  if  there  be  one  faithful  Grseme, 
Who  loves  the  Chieftain  of  his  name, 
Not  long  should  honour'd  Douglas  dwell; 
Like  hunted  stag  in  mountain  cell ; 
Nor ,  ere  yon  pride-swollen  robber  dare, 
1  may  not  give  the  rest  to  air! 
Tell  Roderick  Dhu,  I  owed  him  nought. 
Not  the  poor  service  of  a  boat, 
To  waft  me  to  yon  mountain  side." — 
Then  plunged  he  in  the  flashing  tide. 
Bold  o'er  the  flood  his  head  he  bore, 
And  stoutly  steer'd  him  from  the  shore : 
And  Allan  strain'd  his  anxious  eye, 
Far  raid  the  lake  his  form  to  spy. 


S2  THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 

Darkening  across  each  puny  wave, 
To  which  the  moon  her  silver  gave, 
Fast  as  the  cormorant  could  skim, 
The  swimmer  plied  each  active  limb  ; 
Then  landing  in  the  moonlight  deli. 
Loud  shouted  of  his  weal  to  tell. 
The  Minstrel  heard  the  far  halloo, 
And  joyful  from  the  shore  withdrew. 


(]ANTO  THIRD. 

E\)e   CSatijcrfnfl. 


Time  rolls  his  ceaseless  course.     The  race  of  yore 

Who  danced  our  infancy  upon  their  knee, 
And  told  our  marvelling  boyhood  legends  store, 

Of  their  strange  ventures  happ'd  by  land  or  sea, 
How  are  they  blotted  from  the  things  thdt  be ! 

How  few,  all  weak  and  wither'd  of  their  force. 
Wait,  on  the  verge  of  dark  eternity, 

Like  stranded  wrecks,  the  tide  returning  hoarse, 
To  sweep  them  from  our  sight!    Time  rolls  his  ceaseless  course 
Yet  live  there  still  who  can  remember  well, 

How,  when  a  mountain  chief  his  bugle  blew, 
Both  field  and  forest,  dingle,  cliff,  and  dell. 

And  solitary  heath,  the  signal  knew ; 
And  fast  the  faithful  clan  around  him  drew, 

What  time  the  warning  notf  was  keenly  wound, 
What  time  aloft  their  kindred  banner  flew, 

While  clamorous  war-pipes  yell'd  the  gathering  sound, 
And  while  the  Fiery  Cross  glanced,  like  a  meteor,  round. 


84  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 

11. 
The  summer  dawn's  reflected  hue 
To  purple  changed  Loch-Katrine  blue  ; 
Mildly  and  soft  the  western  breeze 
Just  kiss'd  the  lake,  just  stirr'd  the  trees, 
And  the  pleased  lake,  like  maiden  coy 
Trembled  but  dimpled  not  for  joy ; 
The  mountain  shadows  on  her  breast 
Were  neither  broken  nor  at  rest ; 
In  bright  uncertainty  they  lie, 
Like  future  joys  to  Fancy's  eye. 
The  water-lily  to  the  light 
Her  chalice  rear'd  of  silver  bright ; 
The  doe  awoke,  and  to  the  lawn, 
Begemm'd  with  dew-drops,  led  her  fawn  : 
The  gray  mist  left  the  mountain  side, 
The  torrent  sliow'd  its  glistening  pride  : 
Invisible  in  flecked  sky. 
The  lark  sent  down  her  revelry ; 
The  black-bird  and  the  speckled  thrush 
Good-morrow  gave  from  brake  and  bush ; 
In  answer  coo'd  the  cushat  dove. 
Her  notes  of  peace,  and  rest,  and  love. 

III. 
No  thought  of  peace,  no  thought  of  rest, 
Assuaged  the  storm  in  Roderick's  breast. 


THE    GATHERING.  95 

\f  ith  sheathed  broadsword  in  his  hand, 
Abrupt  he  Daced  the  islet  strand, 
And  eyed  the  rising  sun,  and  laid 
His  hand  on  his  impatient  blade. 
Beneath  a  rock,  his  vassals'  care 
Was  prompt  the  ritual  to  prepare, 
With  deep  and  deathful  meaning  fraught : 
For  such  Antiquity  had  taught 
Was  preface  meet,  ere  yet  abroad 
The  Cross  of  Fire  should  take  its  road 
The  shrinking  band  stood  oft  aghast 
At  the  impatient  glance  he  cast : — 
Such  glance  the  mountain  eagle  threw 
As,  from  the  cliffs  of  Ben-venue, 
She  spread  her  dark  sails  on  the  wind. 
And,  high  in  middle  heaven  reclined, 
With  her  broad  shadow  on  the  lake, 
Silenced  the  warblers  of  the  brake. 


IV. 

A  heap  of  wither'd  boughs  was  piled, 
Of  juniper  and  rowan  wild. 
Mingled  with  shivers  from  the  oak, 
Rent  by  the  lightning's  recent  stroke. 
Bryant,  the  Hermit,  by  it  stood. 
Barefooted,  in  his  frock  and  hooa, 


S6  THE    LADY   OF  THE    LAKE. 


His  grizzled  beard  and  matted  hair 

Obscured  a  visage  of  despair  ; 

His  naked  a:ms  and  legs  seam-d  o'er. 

The  scars  of  frantic  penance  bore. 

That  Monk,  of  savage  form  and  face, 

The  impending  danger  of  his  race. 

Had  drawn  from  deepest  solitude, 

Far  in  Benharrow's  bosom  rude. 

Not  his  the  mien  of  Christian  priest, 

But  Druid's,  from  the  grave  released, 

Whose  harden'd  heart  and  eye  might  brr-^+k 

On  human  sacrifice  to  look  ; 

And  much,  'twas  said,  of  heathen  lore 

Mix'd  in  the  charms  he  mutter'd  o'er. 

The  hallo w'd  creed  gave  only  worse 

And  deadlier  emphasis  of  curse  ; 

No  peasant  sought  that  hermit's  prayer 

His  cave  the  pilgrim  shunn'd  with  care. 

The  eager  huntsman  knew  his  bound, 

And  in  mid-chase  call'd  off  his  hound ; 

Or  if,  in  lonely  glen  or  strath, 

The  desert  dweller  met  his  path, 

He  pray'a,  and  s'gn'd  the  cross  between. 

While  terror  took  devotion's  mien. 


THE    GATHERING.  87 

V. 

Of  Brian's  birth  strange  tales  were  cold, 
His  moiher  watch'd  a  midnight  fold, 
Built  deep  within  a  dreary  glen, 
Where  scatter'd  lay  the  bones  of  men, 
In  some  forgotten  battle  slain, 
And  bleach'd  by  drifting  wind  and  rain. 
It  might  have  tamed  a  warrcy-'g  heart, 
To  view  such  mockery  of  his  art ! 
The  knot-grass  fetter'd  there  the  hand, 
Which  once  could  burst  an  iron  band  ; 
Beneath  the  broad  and  ample  bone. 
That  buckler'd  heart  to  fear  unknown, 
A  ieeble  and  a  timorous  guest, 
The  fieldfare  framed  her  lowly  nest ; 
There  the  slow  blind-worm  left  his  slime 
On  the  fleet  limbs  that  mock'd  at  time  ; 
And  there,  too,  lay  the  leader's  skull, 
Still  wreathed  with  chaplet  flush'd  and  full, 
For  heath-bell,  with  her  purple  bloom, 
Supplied  the  bonnet  and  the  plume. 
All  night,  in  this  sad  glen,  the  maid 
Sate,  shrouded  in  her  mantle's  shade  : 
— She  said,  no  shepherd  sought  her  side, 
No  hunter^s  hand  her  snood  untied. 
Yet  ne'er  again  to  braid  her  hair 
The  virj^in  snood  did  Alice  wear ; 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

Gone  was  her  maiden  glee  and  sport, 
Her  maiden  girdle  all  too  short, 
Nor  sought  she,  from  that  fatal  night, 
Or  holy  church  or  blessed  rite, 
But  lock'd  her  secret  in  her  breast. 
And  died  in  travail  unconfess'd. 


Alone,  among  his  young  compeers. 
Was  Brian,  from  his  infant  years  ; 
A  moody  and  heart-broken  boy, 
Estranged  from  sympathy  and  joy. 
Bearing  each  taunt  which  careless  tongue 
On  his  mysterious  lineage  flung. 
Whole  nights  he  spent  by  moonlight  pale, 
To  wood  and  stream  his  hap  to  wail. 
Till,  frantic,  he  as  truth  received 
What  of  his  birth  the  crowd  believed, 
And  sought,  in  mist  and  meteor  fire. 
To  meet  and  know  his  Phantom  Sire ! 
In  vain,  to  soothe  his  wayward  fate, 
The  cloister  oped  her  pitying  gate 
In  vain,  the  learning  of  the  age 
Unclasp'd  the  sable-letter'd  page  ; 
Even  in  its  treasures  he  could  find 
Food  lor  tne  fever  of  his  mind. 


THE    GATHERING. 


Eager  he  read  whatever  tells 

Of  magic,  cabala,  and  spells,    - 

And  every  dark  pursuit  allied 

To  curious  and  presumptuous  pride  ; 

Till,  with  fired  brain  and  nerves  o'erstruiig, 

And  heart  with  mystic  horrors  wrung, 

Desperate  he  sought  Benharrow's  den, 

And  hid  him  from  the  haunts  of  men. 


VII. 

The  desert  gave  him  visions  wild, 
Such  as  might  suit  the  Spectre's  child. 
Vhere  with  black  cliffs  the  torrents  toil, 
He  watch'd  the  wheeling  eddies  boil. 
Till,  from  their  foam,  his  dazzled  eyes 
Beheld  the  river  demon  rise  ; 
The  mountain  mist  took  form  and  limb. 
Of  noontide  hag,  or  goblin  grim  ; 
The  midnight  wind  came  v/ild  and  dread, 
Swell'd  with  the  voices  of  the  dead  ; 
Far  on  the  future  battle-heath 
His  eye  beheld  the  ranks  of  death : 
Thus  the  lone  Seer,  from  mankind  huil'd. 
Shaped  forth  a  disimbodied  world. 
One  lingering  sympathy  of  mind 
Still  bound  him  to  the  mortal  kind  ; 

h2 


90  THE    LADY   OF    THE    L  A.  K  E. 


The  only  parent  he  could  claim 
Of  ancient  Alpine's  lineage  came. 
Late  had  he  heard,  in  prophet's  dream, 
The  fatal  Ben-Shie's  boding  scream  ; 
Sounds,  too,  had  come  in  midnight  blast, 
Of  charging  steeds,  careering  fast 
Along  Benharrow's  shingly  side. 
Where  mortal  horsemen  ne'er  might  ride 
The  thunderbolt  had  split  the  pine, — 
All  augur'd  ill  to  Alpine's  line. 
He  girt  his  loins,  and  came  to  show 
The  signals  of  impending  wo. 
And  now  stood  prompt  to  bless  or  ban, 
As  bade  the  chieftain  of  his  clan. 


'Twas  all  prepared ; — and  from  the  rock, 
A  goat,  the  patriarch  of  the  flock. 
Before  the  kindling  pile  was  laid. 
And  pierced  by  Roderick's  ready  blade. 
Patient  the  sickening  victim  eyed 
The  life-blood  ebb  in  crimson  tide 
Down  his  clogg'd  beard  and  shaggy  limb. 
Till  darkness  glazed  his  eyeballs  dim. 
The  grisly  priest,  with  murmuring  prayer, 
A  slender  :rosslet  form'd  with  care. 


THE    GATHERING.  91 

A  cubit's  len^h  in  measure  due ; 
The  shaft  and  limbs  were  rods  of  yew, 
Whose  parents  in  Inch-Cailliach  wave 
Their  shadows  o'er  Clan-Alpine's  grave, 
And,  answering  Lomond's  breezes  deep, 
Soothe  many  a  chieftain's  endless  sleep. 
The  Cross,  thus  form'd,  he  held  on  high, 
With  wasted  hand  and  haggard  eye, 
And  strange  and  mingled  feelings  woke, 
While  his  anathema  he  spoke. 

IX. 

"  Wo  to  the  clansmen  who  shall  view 
This  symbol  of  sepulchral  yew, 
Forgetful  that  its  branches  grew 
Where  weep  the  heavens  their  holiest  dew 

On  Alpine's  dwelling  low ! 
Deserter  of  his  Chieftain's  trust, 
He  ne'er  shall  mingle  with  their  dust. 
But,  from  his  sires  and  kindred  thrust, 
Each  clansman's  execration  just 

Shall  doom  him  wrath  and  wo." 
He  paused  ; — the  word  the  vassals  took, 
With  forward  step  and  fiery  look. 
On  high  their  naked  brands  they  shook, 
Their  clattering  targets  wildly  strook ; 

And  first,  in  murmur  low, 


92  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 

Then,  like  the  billow  in  his  course, 
That  far  to  seaward  finds  his  source, 
And  flings  to  shore  his  muster'd  force, 
Burst,  with  loud  roar,  their  answer  hoarse, 

"  Wo  to  the  traitor,  wo  !" 
Ben-an's  gray  scalp  the  accents  knew, 
The  joyous  wolf  from  covert  drew, 
The  exulting  eagle  scream'd  afar, — 
They  knew  the  voice  of  Alpine's  war. 

X. 

The  shout  was  hush'd  on  lake  and  fell. 
The  Monk  resumed  his  mutter'd  spell. 
Dismal  and  low  its  accents  came, 
The  while  he  scathed  the  Cross  with  flame  ; 
And  the  few  words  that  reach'd  the  air, 
Although  the  holiest  name  was  there, 
Had  more  of  blasphemy  than  prayer. 
But  when  he  shook  above  the  crowed 
Its  kindled  points,  he  spoke  aloud : 
"  Wo  to  the  wretch,  who  fails  to  rear 
At  this  dread  sign  the  ready  spear ! 
For,  as  the  flames  this  symbol  sear, 
His  home,  the  refuge  of  his  fear, 
A  kindred  fate  shall  know  ; 
Far  o'er  its  roof  the  volumed  flame 
Clan- Alpine's  vengeance  shall  proclaim, 


THE    GATHERING.  93 


While  maids  and  matrons  on  his  name 
Shall  call  down  wretchedness  and  shame. 

And  infamy  and  wo." 
Then  rose  the  cry  of  females,  shrill 
As  goss-hawk's  whistle  on  the  hill, 
Denouncing  misery  and  ill, 
Mingled  with  childhood's  babbling  trill 

Of  curses  stammered  slow  ; 
Answering  with  imprecation  dread, 
"  Sunk  be  his  home  in  embers  red ! 
And  cursed  be  the  meanest  shed 
That  e'er  shall  hide  the  houseless  head 

We  doom  to  want  and  wo  !" 
A  sharp  and  shrieking  echo  gave, 
Coir-Uriskin,  thy  goblin  cave ! 
And  the  gray  pass  where  birches  wave, 

On  Beala-nam-bo. 

XI. 

Then  deeper  paused  the  priest  anew, 
And  hard  his  labouring  breath  he  drew, 
Wliile,  with  set  teeth  and  clenched  hand. 
And  eyes  that  glow'd  like  fiery  brand, 
He  meditated  curse  more  dread, 
And  deadlier,  on  the  clansman's  head. 
Who,  summon'd  to  his  Chieftain's  aid. 
The  signal  saw  and  disobey'd. 


94  THE    LADYOFTHE    LAKE. 


The  crosslet's  point  of  sparkling  w  jod, 
He  quenched  among  the  bubbling  blood, 
And,  as  again  the  sign  he  rear'd. 
Hollow  and  hoarse  his  voice  was  heard  : 
''When  flits  this  Cross  from  man  to  man, 
Vich- Alpine's  summons  to  his  clan. 
Burst  be  the  ear  that  fails  to  heed ! 
Palsied  the  foot  that  shuns  to  speed  ! 
May  ravens  tear  the  careless  eyes, 
Wolves  make  the  coward  heart  their  prize ! 
As  sinks  that  blood-stream  in  the  earth, 
So  may  his  heart's-blood  drench  his  hearth  ! 
As  dies  in  hissing  gore  the  spark. 
Quench  thou  his  light,  Destruction  dark  ! 
And  be  the  grace  to  him  denied. 
Bought  by  this  sign  to  all  beside  !" 
He  ceased:  no  echo  gave  again 
The  murmur  of  the  deep  Amen. 


Then  Roderick,  with  impatient  look, 
From  Brian's  hand  the  symbol  took : 
"Speed,  Malise,  speed!"  he  said,  and  gave 
The  crosslet  to  his  henchman  brave. 
"  The  muster-place  be  Lanric  mead — 
Instant  the  time — speed,  Malise,  speed  !" 


THE    GATHERING.  t>5 


Like  heath-bird,  when  the  hawks  pursue. 
A  barge  across  Loch-Katrine  flew ; 
High  stood  the  henchman  on  the  prow. 
So  rapidly  the  bargemen  row^, 
The  bubbles,  where  they  launch'd  the  boat, 
Were  all  unbroken  and  afloat, 
Dancing  in  foam  and  ripple  still, 
When  it  had  near'd  the  mainland  hill ; 
And  from  the  silver  beach's  side 
Still  was  the  prow  three  fathom  wide, 
When  lightly  bounded  to  the  land 
The  messenger  of  blood  and  brand. 


XIII. 

Speed,  Malise,  speed !  the  dun  deer's  h'.de 
On  fleeter  foot  was  never  tied. 
Speed,  Malise,  speed !  such  cause  ot  naste 
Thine  active  sinews  never  braced. 
Bend  'gainst  the  ste.ny  hill  thy  breast, 
Burst  down  like  torrent  from  its  crest ; 
With  short  and  springing  footstep  pass 
The  trembling  bog  and  false  morass  ; 
Across  the  brook  like  roebuck  bound. 
And  thread  the  brake  like  questing  houad 
The  crag  is  high,  the  scaur  is  deep, 
Vet  shrink  not  from  the  desperate  leap. 


UH  THELADYOFTHELAKE. 

Parch'd  are  thy  burning  lips  and  brow, 

Yet  by  the  fountain  pause  not  now. 

Herald  of  battle,  fate,  and  fear. 

Stretch  onward  in  thy  fleet  career ! 

The  wounded  hind  thou  track'st  not  now, 

Pursuest  not  maid  through  greenwood  bough, 

Nor  pliest  thou  now  thy  flying  pace 

With  rivals  in  the  mountain  race  ; 

But  danger,  death,  and  warrior  deed, 

Are  in  thy  course — Speed,  Malise,  speed  1 


Fast  as  the  fatal  symbol  flies, 
In  arms  the  huts  and  hamlets  rise  ; 
From  winding  glen,  from  upland  brown. 
They  pour'd  each  hardy  tenant  dovrn. 
Nor  slack'd  the  messenger  his"  pace  : 
He  show'd  the  sign,  he  named  the  place. 
And,  pressing  forwaid  like  the  v/ind, 
Left  clamour  and  surprise  behind. 
The  fisherman  forsook  the  strand, 
The  swarthy  smith  took  dirk  and  brand. 
With  changed  cheer,  the  mower  blithe 
Left  in  the  half-cut  swath  his  scythe. 
The  herds  without  a  keeper  stray'd, 
The  plough  was  in  mid-furrow  stay'd. 


THE    GATHERING.  77 


The  falc'ner  toss'd  his  hawk  away, 
The  hunter  left  the  stag  at  bay  ; 
Prompt  at  the  signal  of  alarms, 
Each  son  of  Alpine  rush'd  to  arms  ; 
So  swept  the  tumult  and  affray 
Along  the  margin  of  Achray. 
Alas,  thou  lovely  lake,  that  e'er 
Thy  banks  should  echo  sounds  of  fear 
The  rocks,  the  bosky  thickets,  sleep 
So  stilly  on  thy  bosom  deep. 
The  lark's  blithe  carol,  from  the  cloud 
Seems  for  the  scene  too  gaily  loud. 


XV. 

Speed,  Malise,  speed !  the  lake  is  past, 
Duncraggan's  huts  appear  at  last, 
And  peep,  like  moss-grown  rocks,  half  seen. 
Half  hidden  in  the  copse  so  green  ; 
There  mayst  thou  rest,  thy  labour  done. 
Their  Lord  shall  speed  the  signal  on, — 
As  stoops  the  hawk  upon  his  prey, 
The  henchman  shot  him  down  the  way. 
— What  woful  accents  load  the  gale  ! 
The  funeral  yell,  the  female  wail ! 
A  gallant  hunter's  sport  is  o'er, 
A  valiant  warrior  fiffhts  no  more. 


THE    LADY    OF   THE    LAKE. 

Who,  in  the,  battle  or  the  chase, 

At  Roderick's  side  shall  fill  his  place  ! — - 

Within  the  hall,  where  torches'  ray 

Supplies  the  excluded  beams  of  day, 

Lies  Duncan  on  his  lowly  bier, 

And  o'er  him  streams  his  widow's  tear. 

His  stripling  son  stands  mournful  by, 

His  youngest  weeps,  but  knows  not  why 

The  village  maids  and  matrons  round 

The  dismal  coronach*  resound. 

XVI. 
COROXACll. 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain, 

He  is  lost  to  the  forest. 
Like  a  summer-dried  fountain, 

When  our  need  was  the  sorest. 
The  font,  re-appearing, 

From  the  rain  drops  shall  1  '^rrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering, 

To  Duncan  no  morrow ! 

I'lie  hand  of  the  reaper 

Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 

But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 
Wails  manhood  in  glory  ; 


*  Funeral  song.     See  note. 


THE    GATHERl  N  G.  99 


The  autumn  winds  rushing- 

Waft  the  leaves  that  are  searest,. 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing 

When  blighting  was  nearest. 
Fleet  foot  on  the  correi,* 

Sage  counsel  in  cumber. 
Red  hand  in  the  foray, 

How  sound  is  thy  slumber ! 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain, 

Like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain, 

Thou  art  gone,  and  for  ever ! 


XVII, 

See  Stumahjf  who,  the  bier  beside, 
His  master's  corpse  with  wonder  eyed,— 
Poor  Stumah  !  whom  his  least  halloo 
Could  send  like  lightning  o'er  the  dew, 
Bristles  his  crest,  and  points  his  ea's. 
As  if  some  stranger  step  he  hears. 
'Tis  not  a  mourner's  muffled  tread, 
Who  comes  to  sorrow  o'er  the  dead. 
But  headlong  haste,  or  deadly  fear. 
Urge  the  precipitate  career. 


*  Or  corri.     The  hollow  side  of  the  hill,  where  game  usually  lies. 
\  Faithful.     The  name  of  a  doer 


100  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


All  stand  aghast : — unheeding  all, 
The  henchman  bursts  mto  the  hall : 
Before  the  dead  man's  bier  he  stood, 
Held  forth  the  Cross,  besmear'd  v/ith  blood ; 
"  The  muster-place  is  Lanric  mead  ; 
Speed  forth  the  signal !  clansmen,  speed  '" 


XVIII. 

Angus,  the  heir  of  Duncan's  line. 

Sprung  forth  and  seized  the  fatal  sign. 

In  haste  the  stripling  to  his  side 

His  father's  dirk  and  broadsword  tied  ; 

But  when  he  saw  his  mother's  eye 

Watch  him  in  speechless  agony. 

Back  to  her  open'd  arms  he  flew, 

Press'a  on  her  lips  a  fond  adieu — 

"  Alas !"  she  sobb'd, — "  and  yet  be  gone. 

And  speed  thee  forth,  like  Duncan's  son  !" 

One  look  he  cast  upon  the  bier, 

Dash'd  from  his  eye  the  gathering  tear, 

Breathed  deep,  to  clear  his  labouring  breast. 

And  toss'd  aloft  his  bonnet  crest. 

Then,  like  the  high-bred  colt  when,  freed, 

First  he  essays  his  fire  and  speed. 

He  vanish'd,  and  o'er  moor  and  moss 

Sped  forward  with  the  Fiery  Cross. 


Sone, 
icaiis  SOIL  ' 


THE    GAT  HER  I  >  G.  .  ,  l-flj 

Suspended  was  the  widow's  tear, 

While  yet  his  footsteps  she  could  hear ; 

And  when  she  mark'd  the  henchman's  eye 

Wet  with  unwonted  sympathy, 

<<  Kinsman,"  she  said,  "  his  race  is  run 

That  should  have  sped  thine  errand  on  ; 

The  oak  has  fallen, — the  sapling  bough 

Is  all  Duncraggan's  shelter  now. 

Yet  trust  I  well,  his  duty  done, 

The  orphan's  God  will  guard  my  son — 

And  you,  in  many  a  danger  true. 

At  Duncan's  hest  your  blades  that  drew. 

To  arms,  and  guard  that  orphan's  head  ! 

Let  babes  and  women  wail  the  dead," 

Then  weapon-clang,  and  martial  call. 

Resounded  through  the  funeral  hall, 

While  from  the  walls  the  attendant  band 

Snatch'd  sword  and  targe  with  hurried  hand  , 

And  short  and  flitting  energy 

Glanced  from  the  mourner's  sunken  eye. 

As  if  the  sounds  to  warrior  dear 

Might  rouse  her  Duncan  from  his  bier. 

But  faded  soon  that  borrow 'd  force  ; 

Grief  claim'd  his  right,  and  tears  their  course, 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


XIX. 

Benledi  saw  the  Cross  of  Fire, 
It  glanced  like  lightning  up  Strath-Ire. 
O'er  dale  and  hill  the  summons  flew, 
Nor  rest  nor  pause  young  Angus  knew  ; 
The  tear  that  gather'd  in  his  eye, 
He  left  the  mountain-breeze  to  dry  ; 
Until,  where  Teith's  young  waters  roll, 
Betwixt  him  and  a  wooded  knoll, 
That  graced  the  sable  strath  with  green. 
The  chapel  of  Saint  Bride  was  seen. 
Swoln  was  the  stream,  remote  the  bridge, 
But  Angus  paused  not  on  the  edge  ; 
Though  the  dark  waves  danced  dizzily, 
Though  reel'd  his  sympathetic  eye, 
He  dash'd  amid  the  torrent's  roar ; 
His  right  hand  high  the  crosslet  bore. 
His  left  the  pole-axe  grasp'd,  to  guide 
And  stay  his  footing  in  the  tide. 
He  stumbled  twice — the  foam  splash'd  high 
Witii  hoarser  swell  the  stream  raced  by  ; 
And  had  he  fallen, — for  ever  there. 
Farewell  Duncraggan's  orphan  heir ! 
But  still,  as  if  in  parting  life. 
Firmer  he  grasp'd  the  Cross  of  strife, 
Until  the  opposing  bank  he  gain'd, 
And  up  the  chapel  pathway  strain'd, 


THEGAIHERING.  lOtl 


XX. 

A  blithesome  rout,  that  morning  tide, 
Had  sought  the  chapel  of  Saint  Bride. 
Her  troth  Tombea's  Mary  gave 
To  Norman,  heir  of  Armandave, 
And,  issuing  from  the  Gothic  arch, 
The  bridal  now  resumed  their  march. 
In  rude,  but  glad  procession,  came 
Bonneted  sire  and  coif-clad  dame  ; 
And  plaided  youth,  with  jest  and  jeer, 
Which  snooded  maiden  would  not  hear  ; 
And  children,  that,  unwitting  why. 
Lent  the  gay  shout  their  shrilly  cry  ; 
And  minstrels,  that  in  measures  vied 
Before  the  young  and  bonny  bride, 
Whose  downcast  eye  and  cheek  disclose 
The  tear  and  blush  of  morning  rose. 
With  virgin  step,  and  bashful  hand. 
She  held  the  kerchief's  snowy  band ; 
The  gallant  bridegroom,  by  her  side. 
Beheld  his  prize  with  victor's  pride. 
And  the  glad  mother  in  her  ear 
Was  closely  whispering  w^ord  of  cheer. 

XXI. 

Wno  meets  them  at  the  churchyard  gate  ^- 
The  messenger  of  fear  and  fate ! 


\M  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 

Haste  in  his  hurried  accent  lies, 

And  grief  is  swimming  in  his  eyes. 

All  dripping  from  the  recent  flood, 

Panting  and  travel-soil'd  he  stood, 

The  fatal  sign  of  fire  and  sword 

Held  forth,  and  spoke  the  appointed  word ; 

"  The  muster-place  is  Lanric  mead. 

Speed  forth  the  signal !     Norman,  speed  !" 

And  must  he  change  so  soon  the  hand. 

Just  linked  to  his  by  holy  band, 

For  the  fell  Cross  of  blood  and  brand  ? 

And  must  the  day,  so  blithe  that  rose. 

And  promised  rapture  in  the  close, 

Before  its  setting  hour,  divide 

The  bridegroom  from  the  plighted  bride  ? 

0  fatal  doom !  it  must !  it  must ! 

Clan-Alpine's  ceiuse,  her  Chieftain's  trust. 

Her  summons  dread,  brook  no  delay ; 


XXII. 

Yet  slow  he  laid  his  plaid  aside. 
And,  lingering,  eyed  his  lovely  bride, 
Until  he  saw  the  starting  tear 
Speak  wo  he  might  not  stop  to  cheer; 
Then,  trusting  not  a  second  look, 
In  haste  he  sped  him  up  the  brook, 


THE    GATHERING.  105 


Nor  backward  glanced  till  on  the  heath 
Where  Lubnaig's  lake  supplies  the  Teith. 
— What  in  the  racer's  bosom  stirr'd  ? 
The  sickening  pang  of  hope  deferr'd. 
And  memory,  with  a  torturing  train 
Of  all  his  morning  visions  vain. 
Mingled  with  love's  impatience,  came 
The  manly  thirst  for  martial  fame  j 
The  stormy  joy  of  raountameers, 
Ere  yet  they  rush  upon  the  spears  : 
And  zeal  for  clan  and  chieftain  burning. 
And  hope,  from  well-fought  field  returning 
Wi<h  war's  red  honours  on  his  crest, 
To  clasp  his  Mary  to  his  breast. 
Stung  by  such  thoughts,  o'er  bank  and  brae, 
Like  fire  from  flint  he  glanced  away, 
Whne  high  resolve,  and  feeling  strong, 
Burst  mto  voluntary  song. 

XXIII. 
SONG. 

The  heath  this  night  must  be  my  bed, 
The  bracken*  curtain  for  my  head, 
My  lullaby,  the  warder's  tread, 

Far,  far  from  love  and  thee,  Mary  ; 


*B  acken.     Fern. 


lOr       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

To-morrow  eve,  more  stilly  laid, 
My  couch  may  be  my  bloody  plaid, 
My  vesper  song,  thy  wail,  sweet  maid ! 

It  will  not  waken  me,  Mary  ! 
I  may  not,  dare  not,  fancy  now 
The  grief  that  clouds  thy  lovely  brow, 
I  dare  not  think  upon  thy  vow, 

And  all  it  promised  me,  Mary. 
No  fond  regret  must  Norman  know  ; 
When  bursts  Clan-Alpine  on  the  foe, 
His  heart  must  be  like  bended  bow, 

His  foot  like  arrow  free,  Mary. 
A  time  will  come  with  feeling  fraught! 
For,  if  I  fall  in  battle  fought, 
Thy  hapless  lover's  dying  thought 

Shall  be  a  thought  on  thee,  Mari'. 
And  if  return'd  from  conquer'd  foes. 
How  blithely  will  the  evening  close, 
How  sweet  the  linnet  sing  repose, 

To  my  young  bride  and  me,  Mary 


Not  faster  o'er  thy  heathery  braes, 
Balquidder,  speeds  the  midnight  o'  aze, 
Rushing,  in  conflagration  strong. 
Thy  d^ep  ravines  and  dells  along, 


THE    GATHERING.  10? 

Wrapping  tliy  cliffs  in  purple  'glow. 

And  reddening  the  dark  lakes  below  ; 

Nor  faster  speeds  it,  nor  so  far, 

As  o'er  thy  heaths  the  voice  of  war. 

The  signal  roused  to  martial  coil 

The  sullen  margin  of  Loch-Voil, 

Waked  still  Loch-Doine,  and  to  the  souroe 

Alarm'd,  Balvaig,  thy  swampy  course  ; 

Thence  southward  turn'd  its  rapid  road 

Adown  Strath-Gartney's  valley  broad, 

Till  rose  in  arms  each  man  might  claim 

A  portion  in  Clan-Alpine's  name  ; 

From  the  gray  sire,  whose  trembling  hand 

Could  hardly  buckle  on  his  brand, 

To  the  raw  boy,  whose  shaft  and  bow 

Were  yet  scarce  terror  to  the  crow. 

Each  valley,  each  sequester'd  glen, 

Muster'd  its  little  horde  of  men, 

'rhat  met  as  torrents  from  the  height 

In  Highland  dale  their  streams  unite, 

Still  gathering,  as  they  pour  along, 

A  voice  more  loud,  a  tide  more  strong, 

Till  at  the  rendezvous  they  stood 

By  hundreds,  prompt  for  blows  and  blooc?  : 

Each  train'd  to  arms  since  life  began, 

Owning  no  tie  but  to  his  clan, 


lOS       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

No  oath,  but  by  his  Chieftain's  hand, 
No  law,  but  Roderick  Dhu's  commana. 


XXV. 

That  summer  morn  had  Roderick  Dhu 
Survey'd  the  skirts  of  Ben-venue, 
And  sent  his  scouts  o'er  hill  and  heath 
To  view  the  frontiers  of  Menteith, 
All  backward  came  with  nev>-s  of  truce  ; 
Still  lay  each  martial  Graeme  and  Bruce, 
In  Rednock  courts  no  horsemen  wait. 
No  banner  waved  on  Cardross  gate. 
On  Duchray's  towers  no  beacon  shone. 
Nor  scared  the  herons  from  Loch-Con  ; 
All  seem'd  at  peace. — Now,  wot  ye  why 
The  Chieftain,  with  such  anxious  eye, 
Ere  to  the  muster  he  repair, 
This  western  frontier  scann'd  with  care  f- 
In  Ben-venue's  most  darksome  cleft, 
A  fair,  though  cruel,  pledge  was  left; 
For  Douglas,  to  his  promise  true. 
That  morning  from  the  isle  withdrew. 
\nd  in  a  deep  sequester'd  dell 
Had  sought  a  low  and  lonely  cell. 
By  many  a  bard,  in  Celtic  tongue, 
Has  Coir-nan-Uriskin  been  sung; 


THE    GATHERING.  109 

A  softer  name  the  Saxons  gave, 
And  call'd  the  grot  the  Goblin  Cave. 


xxvr. 
It  was  a  wild  and  strange  retreat, 
As  e'er  was  trod  by  outlaw's  feet. 
The  dell,  upon  the  mountain's  crest, 
Yawn'd  hke  a  gash  on  warrior's  breast ; 
Its  trench  had  stay'd  full  many  a  rock, 
Hurl'd  by  primeval  earthquake  shock 
From  Ben-venue's  gray  summit  wild, 
And  here,  in  random  ruin  piled, 
They  frown'd  incumbent  o'er  the  spot, 
And  form'd  the  rugged  sylvan  grot. 
The  oak  and  birch,  with  mingled  shade. 
At  noontide  there  a  twilight  made, 
Unless  when  short  and  sudden  shone 
Some  straggling  beam  on  cliff  or  stone, 
With  such  a  glimpse  as  prophet's  eye 
Gains  on  thy  depths.  Futurity. 
No  murmur  waked  the  solemn  still, 
Save  tinkling  of  a  fountain  rill ; 
But  when  the  wind  chafed  with  the  lake, 
A  sullen  sound  would  upward  break. 
With  dashing  hollow  voice,  that  spoke 
The  incessant  war  of  wave  and  rock. 

K 


ilO       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE 


Suspended  cliffs  with  hideous  sway, 
Seem'd  nodding  o'er  the  cavern  8;ray. 
From  such  a  den  the  wolf  had  sprung. 
In  such  (he  wild-cat  leaves  her  young. 
Yet  Douglas  and  his  daughter  fair 
Sought  for  a  space  their  safety  there. 
Gray  Superstition's  whisper  dread 
Debarr'd  the  spot  to  vulgar  tread  ; 
For  there,  she  said,  did  fays  resort, 
And  satyrs*  hold  their  sylvan  court, 
By  moonlight  tread  their  mystic  maze, 
And  blast  the  rash  beholder's  gaze. 

XXVII. 

Now  eve,  with  western  shadows  long, 
Floated  on  Katrine  bright  and  strong, 
When  Roderick,  with  a  chosen  few, 
Repass'd  the  heights  of  Ben-venue. 
Above  the  Goblin  Cave  they  go, 
Through  the  wild  pass  of  Beal-nam-Bo 
The  prompt  retainers  speed  before. 
To  launch  the  shallop  from  the  shore. 
For  'cross  Loch-Katrine  lies  his  way 
To  view  the  passes  of  Achray, 
And  place  his  clansmen  in  array. 


*  The  Uriak,  or  Highland  satyr.     See  ude. 


THE    GATHERING.  Ill 


Yet  lags  the  Chief  in  musing  mind, 

Unwonted  sight,  his  men  behind. 

A  single  page,  to  bear  his  sword, 

Alone  attended  on  his  lord ; 

The  rest  their  way  through  thickets  break, 

And  soon  await  him  by  the  lake. 

It  was  a  fair  and  gallant  sight, 

To  view  them  from  the  neighbouring  height 

By  the  low-levell'd  sunbeams'  light ; 

For  strength  and  stature,  from  the  clan, 

Each  warrior  was  a  chosen  man, 

As  even  afar  might  well  be  seen. 

By  their  proud  step  and  martial  mien. 

Their  feathers  dance,  their  tartans  float, 

Their  targets  gleam,  as  by  the  boat 

A  wild  and  warlike  group  they  stand, 

That  well  became  such  mountain-straU'L 


Their  Chief,  with  step  reluctant,  still 
Was  lingering  on  the  craggy  hill, 
Hard  by  where  turn'd  apart  the  road 
To  Douglas's  obscure  abode. 
It  was  but  w^ith  that  dawning  morn 
That  Roderick  Dhu  had  proudly  sworrij 
To  drown  his  love  in  war's  wild  roar. 
Nor  think  of  Ellen  DouHas  more : 


Hi?  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE 

But  he  who  stems  a  stream  with  sand. 

And  fetters  flame  with  flaxen  band, 

Has  yet  a  harder  task  to  prove — 

By  firm  resolve  to  conquer  love ! 

Eve  finds  the  Chief,  like  restless  ghost. 

Still  hovering  near  his  treasure  lost ; 

For  though  his  haughty  heart  deny 

A  parting  meeting  to  his  eye, 

Still  fondly  strains  his  anxious  ear, 

The  accents  of  her  voice  to  hear. 

And  inly  did  he  curse  the  breeze 

That  waked  to  sound  the  rustling  trees. 

But  hark !  what  mingles  in  the  strain  ? 

It  is  the  harp  of  Allan-bane, 

That  wakes  its  measure  slow  and  hign, 

Attuned  to  sacred  minstrelsy. 

What  melting  voice  attends  the  strings  t 

'Tis  Ellen,  or  an  angel,  sings. 

XXIX. 
HY.MX  TO  THE  VIRGIN. 

^ive  Maria  !     Maiden  mild  ! 

Listen  to  a  maiden's  prayer ! 
Thou  canst  hear  though  from  the  wild, 

Thou  canst  save  amid  despair. 
Safe  may  we  sleep  beneath  thy  care, 

Though  banish'd,  outcast,  and  reviled- 


THE    GATHERING.  113 

Maiden !  hear  a  maiden's  prayer ; 
Mother,  hear  a  suppliant  child  ! 

Jive  Maria  : 

Ave  Maria  I    Undefiled  ! 

The  flinty  couch  we  now  must  share 
Shall  seem  with  down  of  eider  piled, 

If  thy  protection  hover  there. 
The  murky  cavern's  heavy  air 

Shall  breathe  of  balm  if  thou  hast  smiled  ; 
Then,  Maiden,  hear  a  maiden's  prayer, 

Mother,  list  a  suppliant  child  ! 

Ave  Maria ! 

Ave  Maria  !  Stainless  styled  ! 

Foul  demons  of  the  earth  and  air, 
From  this  their  wonted  haunt  exiled, 

Shall  flee  before  thy  presence  fair. 
We  bow  us  to  our  lot  of  care, 

Beneath  thy  guidance  reconciled  ; 
Hear  for  a  maid  a  maiden's  prayer. 

And  for  a  father  hear  a  child ! 

Ave  Maria  ! 


Died  on  the  harp  the  closing  hymn- 
Unmoved  *n  attitude  and  limb, 


114        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


As  list'ning  still,  Clan-Alpine's  lord 
Stood  leaning  on  his  heavy  sword, 
Until  the  page,  with  humble  sign, 
Twice  pointed  to  the  sun's  decline. 
Then   while  his  plaid  he  round  him  cast, 
"  It  is  the  last  time — 'tis  the  last," 
He  mutter'd  thrice, — "the  last  time  e'er 
That  angel-voice  shall  Roderick  hear!" 
It  was  a  goading  thought — his  stride 
Hied  hastier  down  the  mountain  side  ; 
Sullen  he  flung  him  in  the  boat, 
And  instant  'cross  the  lake  it  shot. 
They  landed  in  that  silvery  bay, 
And  eastward  held  their  hasty  way. 
Till,  Avith  the  latest  beams  of  light, 
The  band  arrived  on  Lanric  height. 
Where  muster'd  in  the  vale  below, 
Clan- Alpine's  men  in  martial  show. 


XXXI. 

A  various  scene  the  clansmen  made, 
Some  sate,  some  stood,  some  slowly  stray'd 
But  most,  with  mantles  folded  round, 
Were  couch'd  to  rest  upon  the  ground, 
Scarce  to  be  known,  by  curious  eye, 
From  the  deep  heather  where  they  lie, 


THE    GATHERING.  US 


So  well  was  match'd  the  tarian  screen 

With  heath-bell  dark  and  brackens  green  ; 

Unless  where,  here  and  there,  a  blade, 

Or  lance's  point,  a  glimmer  made, 

Like  glow-worm  twinkling  through  the  shade. 

But  when,  advancing  through  the  gloom, 

They  saw  the  Chieftain's  eagle  plume, 

Their  shout  of  welcome,  shrill  and  wide, 

Shook  the  steep  mountain's  steady  side. 

Thrice  it  arose,  and  lake  and  fell 

Three  times  return'd  the  martial  yell. 

It  died  upon  Bochastle's  plain, 

And  Silence  claim'd  her  evening  reign 


ms  or  CANTO  thihp. 


CANTO  FOURTH. 


2ri)c  i3vop!)cci?. 


"  The  rose  is  fairest  when  'tis  budding  new. 

And  hope  is  brightest  when  it  dawns  from  fears; 
The  rose  is  sweetest  wash'd  with  morning  dew, 

And  love  is  loveliest  when  embalm'd  in  tears. 
0  wilding  rose,  whom  fancy  thus  endears, 

I  bid  your  blossoms  in  my  bonnet  wave, 
Emblem  of  hope  and  love  through  future  years!'' 

Thus  spoke  young  Norman,  heir  of  Armandave, 
What  time  the  sun  arose  on  Vennachar's  broad  wave 

II. 

Such  fond  conceit,  half  said,  half  sung, 
Love  prompted  to  the  bridegroom's  tongue 
All  while  he  stripp'd  the  wild-rose  spray. 
His  axe  and  bow  beside  him  lay, 
For,  on  a  pass  'twixt  lake  and  wood, 
A  wakeful  sentinel  he  stood. 
Hark !  on  the  rock  a  footstep  rung, 
And  instant  to  his  arms  he  sprung. 


THE    PROPHECY.  117 


<«  Stand,  or  thou  diest ! — What,  Malise  ? — soon 

Art  tliou  return'd  from  Braes  of  Doune. 

By  thy  keen  step  and  glance  I  know 

Thou  bring'st  us  tidings  of  the  foe." 

(For  while  the  Fiery  Cross  hied  on, 

On  distant  scout  had  Malise  gone.) 

'<  Where  sleeps  the  Chief?"  the  henchman  said. 

"  Apart,  in  yonder  misty  glade  ; 

To  his  lone  couch  Pll  be  your  guide." 

Then  call'd  a  slumberer  by  his  side. 

And  stirr'd  him  with  his  slacken'd  bow — 

"  Up,  up,  Glentarkin  !  rouse  thee,  ho  ! 

We  seek  the  Chieftain  ;  on  the  track 

Keep  eagle  watch  till  I  come  back." 


III. 

Together  up  the  pass  they  sped  : 

"  "What  of  the  foeman  ?"  Norman  said. 

"  Varying  reports  from  near  and  far; 

This  certain, — that  a  band  of  war 

Has  for  two  days  been  ready  boune, 

At  prompt  command,  to  march  i\-om  Doune  ; 

King  James,  the  while,  with  princely  powers, 

Holds  revelry  in  Stirling  towers. 

Soon  will  this  dark  and  gathering  cloud 

Speak  on  our  glens  in  thunder  loud. 


118  THE    LADYOFTHE    LAKE. 

Inured  to  bide  such  bitter  bout, 

The  warrior's  plaid  may  bear  it  out ; 

But,  Norman,  how  wilt  thou  provide 

A  shelter  for  thy  bonny  bride  ?'" 

"  What!  know  ye  not  that  Roderick's  care 

To  the  lone  isle  hath  caused  repair 

Each  maid  and  matron  of  the  clan, 

And  every  child  and  aged  man 

Unfit  for  arms  ?  and  given  his  charge, 

Nor  skiff  nor  shallop,  boat  nor  barge, 

Upon  these  lakes  shall  float  at  large, 

But  all  beside  the  islet  moor, 

That  such  dear  pledge  may  rest  secure?" 


IV. 

"  'Tis  well  advised — the  Chieftain's  plan 

Bespeaks  the  father  of  his  clan. 

But  wherefore  sleeps  Sir  Roderick  Dhu 

Apart  from  all  his  followers  true.'"' 

"It  is,  because  last  evening-tide 

Brian  an  augury  hath  tried, 

Of  that  dread  kind  which  must  not  be 

Unless  in  dread  extremity, 

The  Taghairm  call'd;  by  which,  afar, 

Our  sires  foresaw  the  ev^ents  of  war. 

Duncraggan's  milk-white  bull  they  slew." 


THE    PROPHECY.  119 


MALISE, 

«'  Ah  !  well  the  gallant  brute  I  knew  ! 
The  choicest  of  the  prey  we  had, 
When  swept  our  merry-men  Gallangad. 
His  hide  was  snow,  his  horns  were  dark. 
His  red  eye  glow'd  like  fiery  spark  ; 
So  fierce,  so  tameless,  and  so  fleet. 
Sore  did  he  cumber  our  retreat, 
And  kept  our  stoutest  kernes  in  awe, 
Even  at  the  pass  of  Beal'maha. 
But  steep  and  flinty  was  the  road, 
And  sharp  the  hurrying  pikeman'sgoad, 
And  when  we  came  to  Denman's  Row, 
A  child  might  scatheless  stroke  his  brow." 

V. 

NORMAN. 

"  That  bull  was  slain  :  his  reeking  hiae 
They  stretch'd  the  cataract  beside. 
Whose  waters  their  wild  tumult  toss 
Adown  the  black  and  craggy  boss 
Of  that  huge  cliflT,  w^hose  ample  verge 
Tradition  calls  the  hero's  Targe. 
Couched  on  a  shelve  beneath  its  brinic, 
Close  w^here  the  thundering  torrents  sink, 
Rocking  beneath  their  headlong  sway, 
And  drizzled  by  the  ceaseless  spray, 


J20       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


Midst  groan  of  rock,  and  roar  of  stream, 
The  wizard  waits  prophetic  dream. 
Nor  distant  rests  the  chief; — but  hush! 
See,  gliding  slow  through  mist  and  bush. 
The  hermit  gains  yon  rock,  and  stands 
To  gaze  upon  our  slumbering  bands. 
Seems  he  not,  Malise,  like  a  ghost. 
That  hovers  o'er  a  slaughter'd  host  ? 
Or  raven  on  the  blasted  oak, 
That,  w^atching  while  the  deer  is  broke.* 
His  morsel  claims  with  sullen  croak  ?" 

MALISE. 

'<  Peace  !  peace  !  to  other  than  to  me 
Thy  words  were  evil  augury  ; 
But  still  I  hold  Sir  Roderick's  blade 
Clan-Alpine's  omen  and  her  aid, 

Not  aught  that,  glean'd  from  heaven  or  hell, 
You  fiend-begotten  Monk  can  tell. 
The  Chieftain  joins  him,  see — and  now. 
Together  they  descend  the  brow." 

VI. 

And,  as  they  came,  with  Alpme's  Lord 
The  Hermit  ]Nronk  held  solemn  word : 

*  Quartered.     See  note. 


THE    PROPHECY.  121 


"  Roderick!  it  is  a  fearful  strife, 
For  man  endow'd  with  mortal  life, 
Whose  shroud  of  sentient  clay  can  still 
Feel  feverish  pang  and  fainting  chill, 
Whose  eye  can  stare  in  stony  trance, 
Whose  hair  can  rouse  like  warrior's  lance,— 
'Tis  hard  for  such  to  view,  unfurl'd. 
The  curtain  of  the  future  world. 
Yet,  witness  every  quaking  limb. 
My  sunken  pulse,  mine  eyeballs  dim, 
My  soul  with  harrowing  anguish  torn. 
This  for  my  Chieftain  have  I  borne  ! — 
The  shapes  that  sought  my  fearful  couch, 
A  human  tongue  may  ne'er  avouch  ; 
No  mortal  man, — save  he,  who,  bred 
Between  the  living  and  the  dead. 
Is  gifted  beyond  nature's  law, — 
Had  e'er  survived  to  say  he  saw. 
At  length  the  fateful  answer  came, 
In  characters  of  living  flame ! 
Not  spoke  in  word,  nor  blazed  in  scroll, 
But  borne  and  branded  on  my  soul ; 
Which  spills  the  foremost  foeman's  life, 
Tha'  party  conquers  in  the  strife." 


(22 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


'■<■  Thanks,  Brian,  for  thy  zeal  and  care  ! 
Good  is  thine  augury,  and  fair. 
Clan-Alpine  ne'er  in  battle  stood, 
But  first  our  broadswords  tasted  blood. 
A  surer  victim  still  I  know, 
Self-offer'd  to  the  auspicious  blow  : 
A  spy  has  sought  my  land  this  morn, — 
No  eve  shall  witness  his  return ! 
My  followers  guard  each  pass's  mouth, 
To  east,  to  westward,  and  to  south ; 
Red  Murdoch,  bribed  to  be  his  guide, 
Has  charge  to  lead  his  steps  aside, 
Till,  in  deep  path  or  dingle  brown, 
He  light  on  those  shall  bring  him  down. 
— But  see,  who  comes  his  news  to  show! 
Malise  !  what  tidings  of  the  foe  ?" 


'<  At  Doune,  o'er  many  a  spear  and  glaive, 

Two  Barons  proud  their  banners  wave. 

I  saw  the  Moray's  silver  star. 

And  mark'd  the  sable  pale  of  Mar." 

"  By  Alpine's  soul,  high  tidings  those ! 

I  love  to  hear  of  worthy  foes. 

When  move  they  on?" — "To-morrow's  noon 

Will  see  them  here  for  battle  boune." 


THE    PROPHECY.  128 

<<  Then  shall  it  see  a  meeting  stern ! — 

But,  for  the  place — say,  couldst  thou  learn 

Nought  of  the  friendly  clans  of  Earn  ? 

Strengthen'd  by  them,  we  well  might  bide 

The  battle  on  Benledi's  side. 

Thou  couldst  not  ? — well !     Clan- Alpine's  men 

Shall  man  the  Trosachs'  shaggy  glen ; 

Within  Loch-Katrine's  gorge  we'll  fight 

All  in  our  maids'  and  matrons'  sight, 

Each  for  his  hearth  and  household  fire, 

Father  for  child,  and  son  for  sire, — 

Lover  for  maid  beloved ! — but  why — 

Is  it  the  breeze  affects  mine  eye  ? 

Ot  dost  thou  come,  ill-omen'd  tear! 

A  messenger  of  doubt  or  fear  ? 

No  !  sooner  may  the  Saxon  lance 

Unfix  Benledi  from  his  stance. 

Than  doubt  or  terror  can  pierce  through 

The  unyielding  heart  of  Roderick  Dhu  ! 

'Tis  stubborn  as  his  trusty  targe. — 

Each  to  his  post ! — all  know  their  charge." 

The  pibroch  sounds,  the  bands  advance. 

The  broadswords  gleam,  the  banners  dance, 

Obedient  to  the  Chieftain's  glance. 

— I  turn  me  from  the  martial  roar, 

And  seek  Coir-Uriskin  once  more. 


l'^ 


THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 


Where  is  the  Douglas  ? — he  is  gone  ; 
And  Ellen  sits  on  the  gray  stone 
Fast  by  the  cave,  and  makes  her  moan ; 
While  vainly  Allan's  words  of  cheer 
Are  pour'd  on  her  unheeding  ear.— 
"  He  will  return — Dear  lady,  trust  !  — 
With  joy  return  ; — he  will — he  must. 
Well  was  it  time  to  seek,  afar, 
Some  refuge  from  impending  war. 
When  e'en  Clan-Alpine's  rugged  swarm 
Are  cow'd  by  the  approaching  storm. 
I  saw  their  boats,  whh  many  a  light, 
Floating  the  live-long  yesternight, 
Shifting  like  flashes  darted  forth 
By  the  red  streamers  of  the  north  ; 
I  mark'd  at  morn  how  close  they  ride, 
Thick  moor'd  by  the  lone  islet's  side. 
Like  wild  ducks  couching  in  the  fen, 
When  stoops  the  hawk  upon  the  gleii. 
Since  this  rude  race  dare  not  abide 
The  peril  on  the  main-land  side. 
Shall  not  thy  noble  father's  care 
Some  sifi^  retreat  for  thee  prepare  ?" 


THE    PROPHECY.  125 


X. 

ELLEN. 

<<No,  Allan,  no !     Pretext  so  kind 
My  wakeful  terrors  could  not  blind. 
Wlien  in  such  tender  lone,  yet  {jrave, 
Douglas  a  parting  blessing:  gave, 
The  tear  that  glisten'd  in  his  eye 
Drown'd  not  his  purpose,  fix'd  and  high. 
My  soul,  though  feminine  and  weak. 
Can  image  his  ;  e'en  as  the  lake,    , 
Itself  disturb'd  by  slightest  stroke, 
Reflects  the  invulnerable  rock. 
He  hears  report  of  battle  rife, 
He  deems  himself  the  cause  of  strife. 
I  saw  him  redden,  when  the  theme 
Turn'd,  Allan,  on  thine  idle  dream, 
Of  Malcolm  Grseme  in  fetters  bound, 
Which  I,  thou  saidst,  about  him  wound. 
Think'st  thou  he  trow'd  thine  omen  aught  ? 
Oh  no  !  'twas  apprehensive  thought 
For  the  kind  youth. — for  Roderick  too — 
(Let  me  be  just)  that  triend  so  true  ; 
In  danger  both,  and  in  our  cause ! 
Minstrel,  the  Douoflas  dare  not  pause. 
Why  else  that  solemn  warning-  given, 
t  If  not  on  earth,  we  meet  in  heaven  .^' 


126       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


Why  else,  to  Cambus  Kenneth's  fane, 
If  eve  return  him  not  again, 
Am  I  to  hie,  and  make  me  known  ? 
Alas!  he  goes  to  Scotland's  throne, 
Buys  his  friends'  safety  with  his  own, — 
He  goes  to  do — what  I  had  done, 
Had  Douglas'  dauditer  been  his  son !" 


Nay,  lovely  Ellen ! — dearest,  nay ! 
If  aught  should  his  return  delay. 
He  only  named  yon  holy  fane 
As  fitting  place  to  meet  again. 
Be  sure  he's  safe  ;  and  for  the  Grseme, — 
Heaven's  blessing  on  his  gallant  name  ! — 
My  vision'd  sight  may  yet  prove  true. 
Nor  bode  of  ill  to  him  or  you. 
\Mien  did  my  gifted  dream  beguile  ? 
Think  of  the  stranger  at  the  isle. 
And  think  upon  the  harpings  slow, 
That  presaged  this  approaching  wo  ! 
Sooth  was  my  prophecy  of  fear ; 
Believe  it  when  it  augurs  cheer. 
Would  we  had  left  this  dismal  spot ! 
Ill  luck  still  haunts  a  fairy  grot. 


THE    PROPHECY.  127 


Of  such  a  wondrous  tale  I  know — 
Dear  lady,  change  that  look  of  wo  ! 
My  harp  was  wont  thy  grief  to  cheer." 

ELLEN. 

«  Well,  be  it  as  thou  wilt ;  I  hear, 
But  cannot  stop  the  bursting  tear." 

The  minstrel  tried  his  simple  art, 
But  distant  far  was  Ellen's  heart. 

XII. 
D  ALL  AD.— ALICE    BRAND. 

Merry  is  it  in  the  good  greenwood, 

When  the  mavis*  and  merlef  are  singing, 

When  the  deer  sweeps  by,  and  the  hounds  are  in  cry, 
x\nd  the  hunter's  horn  is  ringing. 

'  0  Alice  Brand,  my  native  land 

Is  lost  for  love  of  you  ; 
And  we  must  hold  by  wood  and  wold. 
As  outlaws  wont  to  do. 

'  0  Alice,  'twas  all  for  thy  locks  so  bright, 
And  'twas  all  for  thine  eyes  so  blue. 


^Thrush.  f  Blackbird. 


128  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 


That  on  the  night  of  our  luckless  flight, 
Thy  brother  bold  I  slew. 

J' Now  must  I  teach  to  hew  the  beech 
The  hand  that  held  the  glaive. 
For  leaves  to  spread  our  lowly  bed, 
And  stakes  to  fence  our  cave. 

"  And  for  vest  of  pall,  thy  fingers  small, 
That  wont  on  harp  to  stray, 
A  cloak  must  shear  from  the  slaughter'd  deer 
To  keep  the  cold  away." 

<»  0,  Richard  !  if  my  brother  died, 
'Twas  but  a  fatal  chance  ; 
For  darkling  was  the  battle  tried, 
And  fortune  sped  the  lance. 

"If  pall  and  vair  no  more  I  wear, 

Nor  thou  the  crimson  sheen. 
As  warm,  we'll  say,  is  the  russet  gray^ 

As  gay  the  forest-green. 

"  And,  Richard,  if  our  lot  be  hard, 
And  lost  thy  native  land, 
Still  Alice  has  her  own  Richard, 
And  he  his  Alice  Brand." 


j 


THE    PROPHECY.  139 


XIII. 
BALLAD    CONTINUED. 

'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry,  in  good  greenwood, 
So  blithe  Lady  Alice  is  singing  ; 

On  the  beech's  pride,  and  oak's  brown  side, 
Lord  Richard's  axe  is  ringing. 

Up  spoke  the  moody  Elfin  King, 
Who  wonn'd  within  the  hill, — 

Like  wind  in  the  porch  of  a  ruin'd  church, 
His  voice  was  ghostly  shrill. 

"  Why  sounds  yon  stroke  on  beech  and  oak, 
Our  moonlight  circle's  screen  ? 
Or  who  comes  here  to  chase  the  deer, 

Beloved  of  our  Elhn  Queen  ? 
Or  who  may  dare  on  wold  to  wear 
The  fairie's  fatal  green? 

<'Up,  Urgan,  up !  to  yon  mortal  hie, 
For  thou  wert  christen'd  man  ; 
For  cross  or  sign  thou  wilt  not  fly, 
For  mutter'd  word  or  ban. 

"Lay  on  him  the  curse  of  the  wither'd  heart, 
The  curse  of  the  sleepless  eye ; 


130  THE    LADYOF    THE    LAKE 


Till  he  wish  and  pray  that  his  life  would  purt, 
Nor  yet  firxd  leave  to  die." 


XIV. 

BALLAD   CONTINUED. 

'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry,  in  good  greenwood, 
Though  the  birds  have  still'd  their  singing  : 

The  evening  blaze  doth  Alice  raise, 
And  Richard  is  fagots  bringing. 

Up  Urgan  starts,  that  hideous  dwarf, 

Before  Lord  Richard  stands, 
And,  as  he  cross'd  and  bless'd  himself. 
"  I  fear  not  sign,"  quoth  the  grisly  elf, 
"•  That  is  made  with  bloody  hands." 

But  out  then  spoke  she,  Alice  Brand, 
That  woman  void  of  fear, — 
"  And  if  there's  blood  upon  his  hand, 
'Tis  but  the  blood  of  deer." 

s«  Now  loud  thou  liest,  thou  bold  of  mood ! 
It  cleaves  unto  his  hand. 
The  stain  of  thine  own  kindly  blood, 
The  blood  of  Ethert  Brand." 


THE    PROPHECY,  l.il 


Then  forward  stepp'd  she,  Alice  Brand, 
And  made  the  holy  sign,— 
"  And  if  there's  blood  on  Richard's  hand, 
A  spotless  hand  is  mine. 

'  And  I  conjure  thee,  demon  elf, 
By  Him  whom  demons  fear. 
To  show  us  whence  thou  art  thyself, 
And  what  thine  errand  here  ?" 


XV, 

BALLAD    CONTINUED. 

"  'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry,  in  Fairy-land. 
When  fairy  birds  are  singing. 
When  the  court  doth  ride  by  their  monarch's  side, 
With  bit  and  bridle  ringing : 

«'  And  gaily  shines  the  Fairy-land — 
But  all  is  glistening  show. 
Like  the  idle  gleam  that  December's  beam 
Can  dart  on  ice  and  snow, 

'<  And  fading,  like  that  varied  gleam 
Is  our  inconstant  shape, 
Who  now  like  knight  and  lady  seem, 
And  now  like  dwarf  and  ape. 


1>*J  THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 


"It  was  between  the  night  and  day, 
When  the  Fairy  King  has  power, 
That  I  sunk  down  in  a  sinful  fray, 
And,  'twixt  life  and  death,  was  snatch'd  away 
To  the  joyless  Elfin  bower. 

<«  But  wist  I  of  a  w^oman  bold, 

Who  thrice  my  brow  durst  sign, 
I  might  regain  my  mortal  mould. 
As  fair  a  form  as  thine." 

She  cross'd  him  once — she  cross'd  him  twice— 

That  lady  was  so  brave  ; 
The  iouler  grew  his  goblin  hue. 

The  darker  grew  the  cave. 

She  cross'd  him  thrice,  that  lady  bold  ; 

He  rose  beneath  her  hand 
The  fairest  knight  on  Scottish  mould, 

Her  brother,  Ethert  Brand! 

Merry  it  is  in  good  greenwood, 

When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing, 

But  merrier  were  they  in  Dunfermline  gray, 
When  all  the  bells  were  ringing. 


THE    PROPHECY.  133 

XVI. 

Just  as  the  minstrel  sounds  were  stay'd, 

A  stranger  climb'd  the  steepj  glade  : 

His  martial  step,  his  stately  mien, 

His  hunting  suit  of  Lincoln  green, 

His  eagle  glance,  remembrance  claims — 

'Tis  Snowdoun's  Knight,  'tis  James  Fitz-James. 

Ellen  beheld  as  in  a  dream, 

Then,  starting,  scarce  suppress'd  a  scream — 

"  0  stranger!  in  such  hour  of  fear, 

What  evil  hap  has  brought  thee  here  ?" 

"  An  evil  hap,  how  can  it  be, 

That  bids  me  look  again  on  thee  ? 

By  promise  bound,  my  former  guide 

Met  me  betimes  this  morning  tide, 

And  marshall'd,  over  bank  and  bourne, 

The  happy  path  of  my  return." 

'<  The  happy  path  !  — w^hat !  said  he  nought 

Of  war,  of  battle  to  be  fought, 

Of  guarded  pass .'"' — "  No,  by  my  faith  ! 

Nor  saw  I  aught  could  augur  scathe." 

"Oh  haste  thee,  Allan,  to  the  kern, 

— Yonder  his  tartans  I  discern  ; 

Learn  thou  his  purpose,  and  conjure 

That  he  will  guide  the  stranger  sure ! — 

What  prompted  thee,  unhappy  man! 

The  meanest  serf  in  Roderick's  clan 


134  THE    LADY    OF    THK    LAKE. 

Had  not  been  bribed  by  love  or  fear, 
Unknown  to  him,  to  guide  thee  here. 

XVII. 

' '  Sweet  Ellen,  dear  my  life  must  be, 

Since  it  is  worthy  care  from  thee  ; 

Yet  life  I  hold  but  idle  breath. 

When  love  or  honour's  weigh'd  with  death. 

Then  let  me  profit  by  my  chance, 

And  speak  my  purpose  bold  at  once. 

I  come  to  bear  thee  from  a  wild, 

Where  ne'er  before  such  blossom  smiled; 

By  this  soft  hand  to  lead  thee  far 

From  frantic  scenes  of  feud  and  war. 

Near  Bochastle  my  horses  wait ; 

They  bear  us  soon  to  Stirling  gate. 

I'll  place  thee  in  a  lovely  bower, 

I'll  guard  thee  like  a  tender  flower — " 

<<  Oh  !  hush,  Sir  Knight !  'twere  female  art 

To  say  I  do  not  read  thy  heart ; 

Too  much,  before,  my  selfish  ear 

W^as  idly  soothed  my  praise  to  hear. 

That  fatal  bait  hath  lured  thee  back, 

In  deathful  hour,  o'er  dangerous  track ; 

And  how,  0  how,  can  I  atone 

The  wreck  my  vanity  brought  on  ! — 


T  H  E    P  R  0  P  H  E  C  Y.  I3J 


One  way  remains — I'll  tell  him  all — 

Yes  !  struggling  bosom,  forth  it  shall ! 

Thou,  whose  light  folly  bears  the  blame, 

Buy  thine  own  pardon  with  thy  shame ! 

But  first, — my  father  is  a  man 

Outlaw'd  and  exiled,  under  ban  : 

The  price  of  blood  is  on  his  head. 

With  me  'twere  infamy  to  wed. 

Still  wouldst  thou  speak? — then  hear  the  truth! 

Fitz-James,  there  is  a  noble  youth, — 

If  yet  he  is  ! — exposed  for  me 

And  mine  to  dread  extremity — 

Thou  hast  the  secret  of  my  heart ; 

Forgive,  be  generous,  and  depart '" 

XVIII. 

Fitz-James  knew  every  wily  train 
A  lady's  fickle  heart  to  gain. 
Put  here  he  knew  and  felt  them  vain. 
There  shot  no  glance  from  Ellen's  eye, 
To  give  her  steadfast  speech  the  lie  • 
In  maiden  confidence  she  stood, 
Though  mantled  in  her  cheek  the  blood, 
And  told  her  love  with  such  a  .sisfh 

o 

Of  deep  and  hopeless  agony, 

\s  death  had  seal'd  her  Malcolm's  doom, 

And  she  sat  sorrowing  on  his  tomb. 


136       THE  LADYOF  THE  LAKE. 


Hope  vanish'd  from  Fitz-James's  eye, 

But  not  with  hope  fled  sympathy. 

He  proffer'd  to  attend  her  side, 

As  brother  would  a  sister  guide. — 

'<  0  !  little  know'st  thou  Roderick's  bean  ! 

Safer  for  both  we  go  apart. 

0  haste  thee,  and  from  Allan  learn 

If  thou  mayst  trust  yon  wily  kern." 

With  hand  upon  his  forehead  laid. 

The  conflict  of  his  mind  to  shade, 

A  parting  step  or  two  he  made  ; 

Then,  as  some  thought  had  cross'd  his  brain, 

He  paused,  and  turn'd,  and  came  again. 


XIX. 

"  Hear,  lady,  yet,  a  parting  word  ' 
It  chanced  in  fight  that  my  poor  sword 
Preserved  the  life  of  Scotland's  lord. 
This  ring  the  grateful  Monarch  gave, 
And  bade,  when  I  had  boon  to  crave, 
To  bring  it  back,  and  boldly  claim 
The  recompense  that  I  would  name 
Ellen,  I  am  no  courtly  lord. 
But  one  who  lives  by  lance  and  sword, 
Whose  castle  is  his  helm  and  shield, 


His  lordship,  the  embattled  field. 


THE    PROPHECY.  137 


Wliat  from  a  prince  can  I  demand, 

Who  neither  reck  of  state  nor  land  ? 

Ellen,  thy  hand — the  ring  is  thine  ; 

Each  guard  and  usher  knows  the  sign. 

Seek  thou  the  king  witho  it  delay  ; 

This  signet  shall  secure  thy  way ; 

And  claim  thy  suit,  whate'er  it  be, 

As  ransom  of  his  pledge  to  me." 

He  placed  the  golden  circlet  on, 

Paused — kiss'd  her  hand — and  then  was  gone 

The  aged  Minstrel  stood  aghast, 

So  hastily  Fitz-James  shot  past. 

He  join'd  his  guide,  and  wending  down 

The  ridges  of  the  mountain  brown, 

Across  the  stream  they  took  their  way, 

That  joins  Loch-Katrine  to  Achray. 


All  in  the  Trosach's  glen  was  still, 
Noontide  was  sleeping  on  the  hill : 
Sudden  his  guide  whoop'd  loud  and  high — 
"  Murdoch!  was  that  a  signal  cry?" 
He  stammer'd  forth, — "I  shout  to  scare 
Yon  raven  from  his  dainty  fare."— 
He  look'd — he  knew  the  raven's  prey, 
His  own  brave  steed  : — <'  Ah  !  gallant  gray ! 


138        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE, 


For  thee — for  me,  perchance — 'twere  well 
We  ne'er  had  seen  the  Trosachs'  dell. — 
Murdoch,  move  first — but  silently  ; 
Whistle  or  whoop,  and  thou  shalt  die  !" 
Jealous  and  sullen  on  they  fared, 
Each  silent,  each  upon  his  guard. 

XXI. 

Now  wound  the  path  its  dizzy  ledge 
Around  a  precipice's  edge, 
W'hen  lo  !  a  wasted  female  form, 
Blighted  by  wrath  of  sun  and  storm, 
In  tatter'd  weeds  and  wild  array, 
Stood  on  a  cliff  beside  the  way, 
And  glancing  round  her  restless  eye, 
Upon  the  wood,  the  rock,  the  sky, 
Seera'd  nought  to  mark,  yet  all  to  spy. 
Her  brow  was  wreathed  with  gaudy  broom 
With  gesture  wild  she  waved  a  plume 
Of  feathers,  which  the  eagles  fling 
To  crag  and  cliff  from  dusky  wing; 
Such  spoils  her  desperate  step  had  sought, 
Where  scarce  was  footing  for  the  goat. 
The  tartan  plaid  she  first  descried. 
And  shriek'd,  till  all  the  rocks  replied ; 
As  loud  she  laugh'd  when  near  they  drew, 
For  then  the  Lowland  garb  she  knew ; 


THE    PROPHECY.  139 

xlnd  then  her  hands  she  wildly  wrung, 
And  then  she  wept,  and  then  she  sung — 
She  sung! — the  voice  in  better  time, 
Perchance  to  harp  or  lute  might  chime  ; 


BtiU 


Rung  wildly  sweet  to  dale  and  hill. 


XXII. 
SONG. 

«  They  bid  me  sleep,  they  bid  me  pray. 

They  say  my  brain  is  warp'd  and  wrung - 
I  cannot  sleep  on  Highland  brae, 

I  cannot  pray  in  Highland  tongue. 
But  were  I  now  where  Allan  glides. 
Or  heard  my  native  Devan's  tides, 
So  sweetly  would  I  rest,  and  pray 
That  heaven  would  close  my  wintry  day ! 

"  'Twas  thus  my  hair  they  bade  me  braid, 
They  bade  me  to  the  church  repair ; 

It  was  my  bridal  morn  they  said. 

And  my  true  love  would  meet  me  there. 

But  wo  betide  the  cruel  guile. 

That  drown'd  in  blood  the  morning  smile! 

And  wo  betide  the  fairy  dream ! 

I  only  waked  to  sob  and  scream." 


140  THE    LADY    OF    THE    L  \  K  E. 


"  Who  is  this  maid  ?  what  means  her  lay  ? 

She  hovers  o'er  the  hollow  w^ay, 

And  flutters  wide  her  mantle  gray, 

As  the  lone  heron  spreads  his  wing, 

By  twilight,  o'er  a  haunted  spring." 

<<  'Tis  Blanche  of  Devan,"  Murdoch  said, 

'<  A  crazed  and  captive  Lowland  maid, 

Ta'en  on  the  morn  she  vras  a  bride, 

When  Roderick  foray'd  Devan-side. 

The  gay  bridegroom  resistance  made. 

And  felt  our  Chief's  unconquer'd  blade. 

I  marvel  she  is  now  at  large, 

But  oft  she  'scapes  from  Maudlin's  charge. — 

Hence,  brain-sick  fool!" — He  raised  his  bow: — 

"  Now,  if  thou  strikest  her  but  one  blow, 

I'll  pitch  thee  from  the  cliff  as  far 

As  ever  peasant  pitch'd  a  bar!" 

"Thanks,  champion,  thanks!"  the  Maniac  cried, 

And  press'd  her  to  Fitz-James's  side. 

'<  See  the  gray  pennons  I  prepare, 

To  seek  my  true-love  through  the  air  ! 

I  will  not  lend  that  savage  groom, 

To  break  his  fall,  one  downy  plume ' 

No  ! — deep  amid  disjointed  stones. 

The  wolves  shall  batten  on  his  bones, 


THE    PROPHECY.  HI 

And  then  shall  his  detested  plaid, 
By  bush  and  brier  in  mid  air  stay'd, 
Wave  forth  a  banner  fair  and  free, 
Meet  signal  for  their  revelry." 


XXIV. 

«'  Hush  thee,  poor  maiden,  and  be  still !" 
"  0 !  thou  look'st  kindly,  and  I  will. 
Mine  eye  has  dried  and  wasted  been. 
But  still  it  loves  the  Lincoln  green ; 


unstrunsf 


b» 


And,  though  mine  ear  is  all 

Still,  still  it  loves  the  Lowland  tongue. 

«  For  0  my  sweet  William  was  forester  true, 
He  stole  poor  Blanche's  heart  away ! 
His  coat  it  was  all  of  the  greenwood  hue, 
And  so  blithely  he  trill'd  the  Lowland  lay' 


« It  was  not  that  I  meant  to  tell  ..... 
But  thou  art  wise  and  guessest  well." 
Then,  in  a  low  and  broken  tone. 
And  hurried  note,  the  song  went  on. 
Still  on  the  clansman,  fearfully, 
She  fixed  her  apprehensive  eye  ; 
Then  turn'd  it  on  the  Knight,  and  then 
Her  look  glanced  wildly  o'er  the  glen. 


142        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


XXV. 

"  The  toils  are  pitch'd,  and  the  stakes  are  set, 
Ever  sing  mtrrily,  merrily  ; 
The  bows  they  bend,  and  the  knives  they  whet, 
Hunters  live  so  cheerily. 

"  It  was  a  stag,  a  stag  often,* 
Bearing  his  branches  sturdily  ; 
He  came  stately  down  the  glen, 
Ever  sing  hardily,  harddy. 

"It  was  there  he  met  with  a  wounded  doe. 
She  was  bleeding  deathfully  ; 
She  warn'd  him  of  the  toils  below, 
0  so  faithfully,  faithfully ! 

'<  He  had  an  eye,  and  he  could  need. 
Ever  sing  warily,  warily  ; 
He  had  a  foot,  and  he  could  speed — 
Hunters  watch  so  narrowly." 


F':z-Jaraes's  mind  was  passion-toss'd, 
When  Ellen's  hints  and  fears  were  lost 


*  Havinor  ten  branches  on  his  antlers. 


THE    PROFIT  KCY.  UA 

But  Murdoch's  shout  suspicion  wrought. 

And  Blanche's  song  conviction  brought. 

Not  like  a  stag  that  spies  the  snare, 

But  lion  of  the  hunt  aware, 

He  waved  at  once  his  blade  on  high, 

<«  Disclose  thy  treachery  or  die  !" 

Forth  at  full  speed  the  clansman  flew, 

But  in  his  race  his  bow  he  drew. 

The  shaft  just  grazed  Fitz-James's  crest. 

And  thrill'd  in  Blanche's  faded  breast. 

Murdoch-  of  Alpine  !  prove  thy  speed, 

For  ne'ei  had  Alpine's  son  such  need  ! 

With  heart  of  fire,  and  foot  of  wind, 

The  fierce  avenger  is  behind  ! 

Fate  judges  of  the  rapid  strife — 

The  forfeit  death — the  prize  is  lil'e  ' 

Thy  kindred  ambush  lies  before, 

Close  couch'd  upon  the  heathery  moor  ; 

Them  could'st  thou  reach  — it  may  not  be— 

Thine  ambush'd  kin  thou  ne'er  shalt  see, 

The  fiery  Saxon  gains  on  thee ! 

— Resistless  speeds  the  deadly  thrust, 

As  lightning  strikes  the  pine  to  dust ; 

With  foot  and  hand  Fitz- James  must  strain, 

Ere  he  can  win  his  blade  again. 

Bent  o'er  the  fall'n,  with  falcon  eye, 

He  grimly  smik;d  to  see  him  die  ; 


144  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 


Then  slower  wended  back  his  way, 
Where  the  poor  maiden  bleeding  lay. 


XXVII. 

She  sate  beneath  the  birchen  tree, 

Her  elbow  resting  on  her  knee  ; 

She  had  withdrawn  the  fatal  shaft, 

And  gazed  on  it,  and  feebly  laugh'd ; 

Her  wreath  of  broom  and  feathers  gray. 

Daggled  with  blood,  beside  her  lay. 

The  knight  to  staunch  the  life-stream  tried 

"  Stranger,  it  is  in  vain !"  she  cried. 

'<  This  hour  of  death  has  given  me  more 

Of  reason's  power  than  years  before  ; 

For,  as  these  ebbing  veins  decay, 

My  frenzied  visions  fade  away. 

A  helpless  injured  wretch  I  die. 

And  something  tells  me  in  thine  eye, 

That  thou  wert  mine  avenger  born. 

Seest  thou  this  tress  ? — 0  !  still  I've  worn 

This  little  tress  of  yellow  hair. 

Through  danger,  frenzy,  and  despair  ! 

It  once  was  bright  and  clear  as  thine. 

But  blood  and  tears  have  dimm'd  its  shine.. 

I  will  not  tell  thee  when  'twas  shred. 

Nor  from  what  guiltless  victim's  head — 


w 


'**\i  ,fip. 


Ske  s; 

Hei  pI 


THE    PROPHECY.  141 


My  brain  would  turn ! — but  it  shall  wave 
Like  plumage  on  thy  helmet  brave, 
Till  sun  and  wind  shrll  bleach  the  stain, 
And  thou  wilt  bring  it  me  again. 
I  waver  still. — 0  God  !  more  bright 
Let  reason  beam  her  parting  light ! — 
0  !  by  thy  knighthood's  honour'd  sign, 
And  for  thy  life  preserved  by  mine, 
When  thou  shall  see  a  darksome  man, 
Who  boasts  liim  Chief  of  Alpine's  clan. 
With  tartans  broad  and  shadowy  plume. 
And  hand  of  blood,  and  brov»'  of  gloom, 
Be  thy  heart  bold,  thy  weapon  sirong, 
And  wreak  poor  Blanche  of  Devan's  wrong!- 
They  watch  for  thee  by  puss  and  fell  .  .  . 
Avoid  the  path  ...  0  God!  .  .  .  Farewell." 


XXVIII. 

A  kindly  heart  had  brave  Fitz-James  ; 
Fast  pour'd  his  eye  at  pity's  claims, 
And  now,  with  mingled  grief  and  ire, 
He  saw  the  murder'd  maid  expire, 
"  God,  in  my  need,  be  my  relief. 
As  I  wreak  this  on  yonder  Chief!" 
A  lock  from  Blanche's  tresses  fair 
He  blended  with  her  bridegroom's  hair ; 

N 


146  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAK 


The  mingled  braid  in  blood  he  dyed, 

-iud  placed  it  on  his  bonnet-side  : 

"  By  Him  whose  word  is  truth !  I  swear, 

No  other  favour  will  I  w^ear, 

Till  this  sad  token  I  imbrue 

In  the  best  blood  of  Roderick  Dhu  ! 

— But  hark !  what  means  yon  faint  halloo  ? 

The  chase  is  up, — but  they  shall  know, 

The  stag  at  bay's  a  dangerous  foe." 

Barr'd  from  the  known  but  guarded  way, 

Through  copse  and  cliffs  Fitz-James  must  stray, 

And  oft  must  change  his  desperate  track, 

By  stream  and  precipice  turn'd  back. 

Heartless,  fatigued,  and  faint,  at  length. 

From  lack  of  food  and  loss  of  strength, 

He  couch'd  him  in  a  thicket  hoar, 

And  thought  his  toils  and  perils  o'er  : — 

"  Of  all  my  rash  adventures  past. 

This  frantic  feat  must  prove  the  last ! 

Who  e'er  so  mad  but  might  have  guess'd, 

That  all  this  Highland  hornet's  nest 

Would  muster  up  in  swarms  so  soon 

As  e'er  they  heard  of  bands  at  Doune  ? — 

Like  bloodhounds  now  they  search  me  oat,— 

Hark,  to  the  whistle  and  the  shout ! — 

If  faj-ther  through  the  wilds  I  go, 

I  only  f^ll  upon  the  foe  ; 


THE    PROPHECY.  W 

I'll  couch  me  here  till  evening'  gray, 
Then  darkling  try  my  dangerous  way.'" 


The  shades  of  eve  come  slowly  down, 

The  woods  are  wrapp'd  in  deeper  brown. 

The  owl  awakens  from  her  dell, 

The  fox  is  heard  upon  the  fell ; 

Enough  remains  of  glimmering  light 

To  guide  the  wanderer's  steps  aright, 

Yet  not  enough  from  far  to  show 

His  figure  to  the  watchful  foe. 

With  cautious  step,  and  ear  awake, 

He  climbs  the  crag  and  threads  the  brake  ; 

And  not  the  summer  solstice,  there, 

Temper'd  the  midnight  mountain  air, 

But  every  breeze,  that  swept  the  wold, 

Benumb'd  his  drenched  limbs  with  cold. 

In  dread,  in  danger,  and  alone, 

Famish'd  and  chill'd,  through  ways  unknown, 

Tangled  and  steep,  he  journey'd  on  ; 

Till,  as  a  rock's  huge  point  he  turn'd, 

A  watch-fire  close  before  him  burn'd. 

XXX. 

Beside  its  embers  red  and  clear, 
Bask'd,  in  his  plaid,  a  mountaineer , 


148       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

And  up  he  sprung  with  sword  in  hand, — 

"  Thy  name  and  purpose  !  Saxon,  stand  !" 

"  A  stranger." — "  What  dost  thou  require  ?" 

"  Rest  and  a  guide,  and  food  and  fire. 

My  life's  beset,  my  path  is  lost, 

The  gale  has  chill'd  my  limbs  with  frost." 

"Art  thou  a  friend  to  Roderick?" — ^^No." 

<<  Thou  darcst  not  call  thyself  a  foe  ?" 

"  I  dare !  to  him  and  all  the  band 

He  brings  to  aid  his  murderous  hand." 

"  Bold  words  ! — but,  though  the  beast  of  game 

The  privilege  of  chase  may  claim, 

Though  space  and  law  the  stag  we  lend, 

Ere  hound  we  slip,  or  bow  we  bend, 

.Who  ever  reck'd,  where,  how,  or  vrhen, 

The  prowling  fox  was  trapp'd  or  slain  ? 

Thus  treacherous  scouts, — yet  sure  they  lie, 

Who  say  thou  camest  a  secret  spy!" 

"  They  do,  by  heaven  ! — Come  Roderick  Dhu, 

And  of  his  clan  the  boldest  two, 

And  let  me  but  till  morning  rest, 

I  write  the  folsehood  on  their  crest." 

"  If  by  the  blaze  I  mark  aright. 

Thou  bear'st  the  belt  and  spur  of  Knight." 

"  Then  by  these  tokens  mayst  thou  know 

Each  proud  oppressor's  mortal  foe." 


THE    PROPHECY  149 


<<  Enough,  enough;  sit  down  and  share 
A  soldier's  couch,  a  soldier's  fare." 


XXXI. 

He  gave  him  of  his  Highland  cheer, 
The  harden'd  flesh  of  mountain  deer ; 
Dry  fuel  on  the  fire  he  laid, 
And  bade  the  Saxon  share  his  plaid. 
He  tended  him  like  welcome  guest, 
Then  thus  his  farther  speech  address'd 
"  Stranger,  I  am  to  Roderick  Dhu 
A  clansman  born,  a  kinsman  true  ; 
Each  word  against  his  honour  spoke, 
Demands  of  me  avenging  stroke  ; 
Yet  more, — upon  thy  fate,  'tis  said, 
A  mighty  augury  is  laid. 
It  rests  with  me  to  wind  my  horn. 
Thou  art  with  numbers  overborne  ; 
It  rests  with  me,  here,  brand  to  brand. 
Worn  as  thou  art,  to  bid  thee  stand : 
But,  not  for  clan,  nor  kindred's  cause, 
Will  I  depart  from  honour's  laws  : 
To  assail  a  wearied  man  were  shame, 
And  stranger  is  a  holy  name  : 
Guidance  and  rest,  and  food  and  fire, 
In  vain  he  never  must  require. 

n2 


150  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 


Then  rest  thee  here  till  dawn  of  day  ; 
Myself  will  guide  thee  on  the  way, 
O'er  stock  and  stone,  through  watch  and 
Till  past  Clan-xllpine's  outmost  guard, 
As  far  as  Coilantogle's  ford  : 
From  thence  thy  warrant  is  thy  sword.'' 
<'  I  take  thy  courtesy,  by  Heaven, 
As  freely  as  'tis  nobly  given !" 
"  Well,  rest  thee  :  for  the  bittern's  cry 
Sings  us  the  lake's  wild  lullaby." 
With  that  he  shook  the  gather'd  heath, 
And  spread  his  plaid  upon  the  wreath : 
And  the  brave  foemen,  side  by  side, 
Lay  peaceful  down  like  brothers  tried, 
And  slept  until  the  dawning  beam 
Purpled  the  mountain  and  the  stream. 


BJfD   OF   CANTO  FOURTH. 


CANTO  FIFTH. 

CTjIie  CToinfiat 


Fair  as  the  earliest  beam  of  eastern  light, 

When  first,  by  the  bewilder'd  pilgrim  spied, 
It  smiles  upon  the  dreary  brow  of  night, 

And  silvers  o'er  the  torrent's  foaming  tide. 
And  lights  the  fearful  path  on  mountain  side ; — 

Fair  as  that  beam,  although  the  fairest  far, 
Giving  to  horror  grace,  to  danger  pride. 

Shine  martial  Faith,  and  Courtesy's  bright  star, 
Through  all  the  wreckful  storms  that  cloud  the  brow  of  War 

11. 

That  early  beam,  so  fair  and  sheen, 
Was  twinkling  through  the  hazel  screen. 
When,  rousing  at  its  glimmer  red, 
The  warriors  left  their  lowly  bed, 
Look'd  out  upon  the  dappled  sky, 
Mutter'd  their  soldier  matins  by, 


152       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


And  then  awaked  their  fire,  to  steal, 
As  short  and  rude,  their  soldier  meal. 
That  o'er,  the  Gael*  around  him  threw 
His  graceful  plaid  of  varied  nue, 
And  true  to  promise,  led  the  way, 
By  thicket  green  and  mountain  gray. 
A  vrildering  path ! — they  winded  now 
Along  the  precipice's  brow, 
Commanding  the  rich  scenes  beneath. 
The  windings  of  the  Forth  and  Teith, 
And  all  the  vales  between  that  lie, 
Tdi  Stirling's  turrets  melt  in  sky ; 
Then,  sunk  in  copse,  their  farthest  glance 
Gain'd  not  the  length  of  horseman's  lance. 
'Twas  oft  so  steep,  the  foot  was  fain 
Assistance  from  the  hand  to  gain  ; 
So  tangled  oft,  that,  bursting  through, 
Each  hawthorn  shed  her  showers  of  dew, — 
That  diamond  dew,  so  pure  and  clear. 
It  rivals  all  but  Beauty's  tear ! 


At  length  they  came  where,  stern  and  steep, 
The  hill  sinks  down  upon  the  deep. 


*  The  Scottish  Highlander  calls  himself  Gael,  ol  Gaul,  and  terms  the 
Lowlanders  Sassenach,  or  Saxons. 


THE    COMBAT.  153 


Here  Vennachar  in  silver  flows, 

There,  ridge  on  ridge,  Benledi  rose, 

Ever  the  hollow  path  twined  on, 

Beneath  steep  bank  and  threatening  stone  ; 

A  hundred  men  might  hold  the  post 

With  hardihood  against  a  host. 

The  rugged  mountain's  scanty  cloak 

Was  dwarfish  shrubs  of  birch  and  oak, 

With  shingles  bare,  and  cliffs  between, 

And  patches  bright  of  bracken  green. 

And  heather  black,  that  waved  so  high, 

It  held  the  copse  in  rivalry. 

But  where  the  lake  slept  deep  and  still, 

Dank  osiers  fringed  the  swamp  and  hill  ; 

And  oft  both  path  and  hill  were  torn, 

Where  wintry  torrent  down  had  borne ; 

And  heap'd  upon  the  cumber'd  land 

Its  wreck  of  gravel,  rocks,  and  sand. 

So  toilsome  was  the  road  to  trace. 

The  guide,  abating  of  his  pace. 

Led  slowly  through  the  pass's  jaws. 

And  ask'd  Fitz-James,  by  what  strange  cause 

He  sought  these  wilds  ?  traversed  by  few, 

Without  a  pass  from  Roderick  Dhu. 


154       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


IV. 

"  Brave  Gael,  my  pass,  in  danger  tried, 
Hangs  in  my  belt,  and  by  my  side  ; 
Yet,  sootli  to  tell,"  the  Saxon  said, 
"  I  dream'd  not  now  to  claim  its  aid. 
When  here,  but  three  days  since,  I  came, 
Bewilder'd  in  pursuit  of  game. 
All  seem'd  as  peaceful  and  as  still 
As  the  mist  slumbering  on  yon  hill ; 
Thy  dangerous  Chief  was  then  afar. 
Nor  soon  expected  back  from  war. 
Thus  said,  at  least,  my  mountain  guide, 
Though  deep,  perchance,  the  villain  lied." 
"  Yet  why  a  second  venture  try?" 
"  A  warrior  thou,  and  ask  me  why ! — 
Moves  our  free  course  by  such  fix'd  cause, 
A.S  gives  the  poor  mechanic  laws  ? 
Enough,  I  sought  to  drive  away 
The  lazy  hours  of  peaceful  day  ; 
Slight  cause  wall  then  suffice  to  guide 
A  Knight's  free  footsteps  far  and  wide,-- 
A  falcon  flown,  a  greyhound  stray 'd. 
The  merry  glance  of  mountain  maid  ; 
Or,  if  a  path  be  dangerous  known, 
The  danger's  self  is  lure  alone." 


THE    COMBAT.  155 


V. 

"  Thy  secret  keep,  I  urge  thee  not ; — 
Yet,  ere  again  ye  sought  this  spot, 
Say,  heard  ye  nought  of  Lowland  war, 
Against  Clan- Alpine  raised  by  Mar  ?" 
"  No,  by  my  word  ; — of  bands  prepared 
To  guard  King  James's  sports  I  heard  ; 
Nor  doubt  I  aught,  but,  when  they  hear 
This  muster  of  the  mountaineer. 
Their  pennons  will  abroad  be  flung, 
Which  else  in  Doune  had  peaceful  hung." 
"  Free  be  they  flung  !  for  we  were  loth 
Their  silken  folds  should  feast  the  moth. 
Free  be  they  flung  ! — as  free  shall  wave 
Clan-Alpine's  pine  in  banner  brave. 
But,  Stranger,  peaceful  since  you  came, 
Bewilder'd  in  the  mountain  game, 
"Whence  the  bold  boast  by  which  you  show, 
Vich-Alpine's  vow'd  and  mortal  foe  ?" 
"  Warrior,  but  yestermorn,  I  knew 
Nought  of  thy  chieftam,  Roderick  Dhu, 
Save  as  an  outlaw'd  desperate  man. 
The  chief  of  a  rebellious  clan. 
Who,  m  the  Regent's  court  and  sight, 
With  ruffian  dagger  stabb'd  a  knight ; 
Yet  this  alone  might  from  his  part 
Sever  each  true  and  loyal  heart." 


156  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE 

VI. 

Wrothful  at  such  arraignment  foul, 
Dark  lower'd  the  clansman's  sable  scowl. 
A  space  he  paused,  then  sternly  said, — 
"  And  heardst  thou  why  he  drew  his  blade  ? 
Heardst  thou  that  shameful  word  and  blow 
Brought  Roderick's  vengeance  on  his  foe  ? 
What  reck'd  the  Chieftain  if  he  stood 
On  Highland  heath  or  Holy-Rood  ? 
He  rights  such  wrong  where  it  is  given, 
If  it  were  in  the  court  of  heaven." 
<■<■  Still  was  it  outrage  ; — yet,  'tis  true, 
Not  then  claim'd  sovereignty  Ids  due  ; 
While  Albany,  with  feeble  hand. 
Held  borrow'd  truncheon  of  command. 
The  young  King,  mew'd  in  Stirling  tower, 
Was  stranger  to  respect  and  power. 
But  then,  thy  Chieftain's  robber  life  ! — 
Winning  mean  prey  by  causeless  strife, 
Wrenching  from  ruin'd  Lowland  swain 
His  herds  and  harvest  rear'd  in  vain, — 
Methinks  a  soul  like  thine  should  scorn 
The  spoils  from  such  foul  foray  borne." 

VII. 

The  Gael  beheld  him  grim  the  while, 
And  answer'd  with  disdainful  smile, — 


J 


THE    COMBAT.  157 


'<  Saxon,  from  yonder  mountain  high, 
I  mark'd  thee  send  delighted  eye 
Far  to  the  south  and  east,  where  lay, 
Extended  in  succession  gay, 
Deep  waving  fields  and  pastures  green, 
With  gentle  slopes  and  groves  between : — 
These  fertile  plains,  that  soften'd  vale, 
Were  once  the  birthright  of  the  Gael ; 
The  stranger  came  with  iron  hand, 
And  from  our  fathers  reft  the  land. 
Where  dwell  we  now  !  See,  rudely  swell 
Crag  over  crag,  and  fell  o'er  fell. 
Ask  we  this  savage  hill  we  tread. 
For  fatten'd  steer  or  household  bread  ; 
Ask  we  for  flocks  these  shingles  dry, 
And  well  the  mountain  might  reply, — 
'  To  you,  as  to  your  sires  of  yore, 
Belong  the  target  and  claymore  ! 
I  give  you  shelter  in  my  breast, 
Your  own  good  blades  must  win  the  rest.' 
Pent  in  this  fortress  of  the  North, 
Think'st  thou  we  will  not  sally  forth. 
To  spoil  the  spoiler  as  w'e  may, 
And  from  the  robber  rend  the  prey  ? 
Ay,  by  my  soul  I — While  on  yon  plain 
The  Saxon  rears  one  shock  of  grain  ; 


158  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

While,  often  thousand  herds,  there  strays 
But  one  along  yon  river's  maze, — 
The  Gael,  of  plain  and  river  heir, 
Shall,  with  strong  hand,  redeem  his  share. 
Where  live  the  mountain  chiefs  who  hold, 
That  plundering  Lowland  field  and  fold 
Is  aught  but  retribution  true? 
Seek  other  cause  'gainst  Roderick  Dhu." 


VIII. 

Answer'd  Fitz-James, —  "And,  if  I  sought 

Think'st  thou  no  other  could  be  brought  ? 

What  deem  ye  of  my  path  waylaid  ? 

My  life  given  o'er  to  ambuscade  ?" 

"  As  of  a  meed  to  rashness  due  : 

Hadst  thou  sent  warning  fair  and  true, — 

I  seek  my  hound,  or  falcon  stray 'd, 

I  seek,  good  faith,  a  Highland  maid, — 

Free  hadst  thou  been  to  come  and  go  ; 

But  secret  jDath  marks  secret  toe. 

Nor  yet,  for  this,  even  as  a  spy, 

Hadst  thou,  unheard,  been  doom  d  to  die. 

Save  to  fulfil  an  augury," 

"  Well,  let  it  pass  ;  nor  will  I  now 

Fresh  cause  of  enmity  avow. 

To  chafe  thy  mood  and  cloud  thy  brow. 


THE    COMBAT.  159 


Enough,  I  am  by  promise  tied 

To  match  me  with  this  man  of  pride  : 

Twice  have  I  sought  Clan-Alpine's  glen 

In  peace  ;  but  when  I  come  again, 

I  come  with  banner,  brand,  and  bow, 

As  leader  seeks  his  mortal  foe. 

For  love-lorn  swain,  in  lady's  bower, 

Ne'er  panted  for  the  appointed  hour, 

As  I,  until  before  me  stand 

This  rebel  Chieftain  and  his  band." 


'<  Have,  then,  thy  wish!" — He  whistled  shrill, 

And  he  was  answer'd  from  the  hill ; 

Wild  as  the  scream  of  the  curlew. 

From  crag  to  crag  the  signal  flew. 

Instant,  through  copse  and  heath,  arose 

Bonnets  and  spears  and  bended  bows  ; 

On  right,  on  left,  above,  below, 

Sprung  up  at  once  the  lurking  foe  ; 

From  shingles  gray  their  lances  start, 

The  bracken  bush  sends  forth  the  dart, 

The  rushes  and  the  willow-wand 

Are  bristling  into  axe  and  brand, 

And  every  tuft  of  broom  gives  life 

To  plaided  warrior  arm'd  for  strife. 


160       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

That  whistle  garrison'd  the  glen 

At  once  with  full  five  hundred  men, 

As  if  the  yawning  hill  to  heaven 

A  subterranean  host  had  given. 

Watching  their  leader's  beck  and  will, 

All  silent  there  they  stood,  and  still, 

Like  the  loose  crags  whose  threatening  mass 

Lay  tottering  o'er  the  hollow  pass, 

As  if  an  infant's  touch  could  urge 

Their  headlong  passage  down  the  verge. 

With  step  and  weapon  forward  flung, 

Upon  the  mountain-side  they  hung. 

The  mountaineer  cast  glance  of  pride 

Along  Benledi's  living  side, 

Then  fix'd  his  eye  and  sable  brow 

Full  on  Fitz- James — "How  say'st  thou  now.^ 

These  are  Clan-Alpine's  warriors  true  ; 

And,  Saxon, — I  am  Roderick  Dhu!" 


X. 

Fitz-James  was  brave  : — Though  to  his  heart 
llie  life-blood  thrill'd  with  sudden  start, 
He  mann'd  himself  with  dauntless  air, 
Return'd  the  Chief  his  haughty  stare, 
His  back  against  a  rock  he  bore, 
And  firmly  placed  his  foot  before : — 


THE    COMBAT.  I6i 

"Come  one,  come  all!  this  rock  shall  fly 

From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I."' 

Sir  Roderick  mark'd — and  in  his  eyes 

Respect  was  mingled  with  surprise, 

And  the  stern  joy  which  warriors  feel 

In  foemen  worthy  of  their  steel. 

Short  space  he  stood — then  waved  his  hand  : 

Down  sunk  the  disappearing  band ; 

Each  warrior  vanish'd  where  he  stood, 

In  broom  or  bracken,  heath  or  wood  ; 

Sunk  brand  and  spear  and  bended  bow,. 

In  osiers  pale  and  copses  low ; 

It  seem'd  as  if  their  mother  Earth 

Had  swallow'd  up  her  warlike  birth. 

The  wind's  last  breath  had  toss'd  in  air 

Pennon,  and  plaid,  and  plumage  fair,; — 

The  next  but  swept  a  lone  hill-side. 

Where  heath  and  fern  were  waving  w^ide  ; 

The  sun's  last  glance  was  glinted  back 

From  spear  and  glaive,  from  targe  and  jack,— 

The  next,  all  unreflected,  shone 

On  bracken  green,  and  cold  gray  stone. 

XI. 

Fitz-James  look'd  round — yet  scarce  believed 
The  witness  that  his  sight  received  ; 


162  THE    LAD\    O  F    T II  E    LAKE. 

Such  apparition  well  might  seem 

Delusion  of  a  dreadful  drearn. 

Sir  Roderick  in  suspense  he  eyed, 

And  to  his  look  the  Chief  replied, 

'<  Fear  nought — nay,  that  I  need  not  say — 

But — doubt  not  aught  from  mine  array. 

Thou  art  ray  guest ; — I  pledged  my  word 

As  far  as  Coilantogle  ford  : 

Nor  would  I  call  a  clansman's  brand 

For  aid  against  one  valiant  hand. 

Though  on  our  strife  lay  every  vale 

Rent  by  the  Saxon  from  the  Gael. 

So  move  we  on  ; — I  only  meant 

To  show  the  reed  on  which  you  leant. 

Deeming  this  path  you  might  pursue 

Without  a  pass  from  Roderick  Dhu." 

They  moved : — I  said  Fitz-James  was  brave 

As  ever  knio-ht  that  belted  glaive  ; 

Yet  dare  not  say,  that  now  his  blood 

Kept  on  its  wont  and  temper'd  flood, 

As,  following  Roderick's  stride,  he  drev,- 

That  seeming  lonesome  pathway  through 

Which  yet,  by  fearlul  proof,  was  rife 

With  lances,  that,  to  take  his  life. 

Waited  but  signal  from  a  guide. 

So  late  dishonour'd  and  defied. 


THE    COMBAT.  163 


Ever,  by  stealth,  his  eye  sought  round 
The  vanish'd  guardians  of  the  ground, 
And  still,  from  copse  and  heather  deep, 
Fancy  saw  spear  and  broadsword  peep, 
And  in  the  plover's  shrilly  strain, 
The  signal  whistle  heard  again. 
Nor  breathed  he  free  till  far  behind 
The  pass  w^as  left ;  for  then  they  wind 
Along  a  wide  and  level  green. 
Where  neither  tree  nor  tuft  was  seen. 
Nor  rush,  nor  brush  of  broom  was  near, 
To  hide  a  bonnet  or  a  spear. 

XII. 

The  Chief  in  silence  strode  before. 

And  reach'd  that  torrent's  sounding  shore. 

Which,  daughter  of  three  mighty  lakes, 

From  Vennachar  in  silver  breaks. 

Sweeps  through  the  plain,  and  ceaseless  mines 

On  Bochastle  the  mouldering  lines, 

Where  Rome,  the  Empress  of  the  worlcu 

Of  yore  her  eagle  wings  unfurl'd. 

And  here  his  course  the  Chieftain  stay'd, 

Threw  down  his  target  and  his  plaid. 

And  to  the  Lowland  v/arrior  said : — 

"  Bold  Saxon  !  to  his  promise  just. 

Vich-Alpine  has  discharged  his  trust 


164  THE    LADY   OF   THE    L..  KE. 


This  murderous  Chief,  this  ruthless  man, 

This  head  of  a  rebellious  clan, 

Hath  led  thee  safe,  through  watch  and  \^  ard, 

Far  past  Clan-Alpine's  outmost  guard. 

Now,  man  to  man,  and  steel  to  steel, 

A  chieftain's  vengeance  thou  shalt  feel. 

See,  here,  all  vantageless  I  stana, 

Arm'd,  like  thyself,  with  single  brand ; 

For  this  is  Coilantogle  ford, 

And  thou  must  keep  thee  with  thy  sword." 


XIII. 

The  Saxon  paused  : — "  I  ne'er  delay'd, 
Wlien  foeman  bade  me  draw  my  blade  ; 
Nay  more,  brave  Chief,  I  vow'd  thy  death : 
Yet  sure  thy  fair  and  generous  faith, 
And  my  deep  debt  for  life  preserved, 
A  better  meed  have  well  deserved : 
Can  nought  but  blood  our  feud  atone  ? 
Are  there  no  means  ?' 
And  hear, — to  fire  thy  flagging  zeal,— 
The  Saxon  cause  rests  on  thy  steel ; 
For  thus  spoke  Fate  by  prophet  bred 
Between  the  living  and  the  dead : 
<  Who  spills  the  foremost  foeman's  life. 
His  party  conquers  in  the  strife.'" 


THE    COxMBAT.  165 


"  Then,  by  my  word,"  the  Saxon  said, 
<'  The  riddle  is  ah-eady  read. 
Seek  yonder  brake  beneath  the  cliff, — 
There  lies  Red  Murdoch,  stark  and  stiff. 
Thus  Fate  has  solved  her  prophecy, 
Then  yield  to  Fate,  and  not  to  me. 
To  James,  at  Stirling,  let  us  go, 
When,  if  thou  wilt  be  still  his  foe, 
Or  if  the  King  shall  not  agree 
To  grant  thee  grace  and  favour  free, 
I  plight  mine  honour,  oath,  and  word 
That,  to  thy  native  strength  restored, 
With  each  advantage  shalt  thou  stand. 
That  aids  thee  now  to  guard  thy  land." 


XIV. 

Dark  lightning  flash'd  from  Roderick's  eve- 
"  Soars  thy  presumption  then  so  high, 
Because  a  wretched  kern  ye  slew, 
Homage  to  name  to  Roderick  Dhu  ? 
He  yields  not,  he,  to  man  or  Fate ! 
Thou  add'st  but  fuel  to  my  hate  : 
My  clansman's  blood  demands  revenge. 
Not  yet  prepared  ? — By  heaven,  I  change 
My  thought,  and  hold  thy  valor  light 
As  *hat  of  some  vain  carpet  knight, 


THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 


Who  ill  deserved  my  courteous  care, 
And  whose  best  boast  is  but  to  wear 
A  braid  of  his  fair  lady's  hair." 
— "I  thank  thee,  Roderick  for  the  word ! 
It  nerves  my  heart,  it  steels  my  sword, 
For  I  have  sworn  this  braid  to  stain 
In  the  best  blood  that  warms  thy  vein. 
Now,  truce,  farewell !  and  ruth,  begone  ' — 
Yet  think  not  that  by  thee  alone. 
Proud  Chief!  can  courtesy  be  shown  ; 
Though  not  from  copse,  or  heath,  or  cairn, 
Start  at  my  whistle  clansmen  stern, 
Of  this  small  horn  one  feeble  blast 
Would  fearful  odds  against  thee  cast. 
But  fear  not — doubt  not — which  thou  wilt^ 
We  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt." 
Then  each  at  once  his  faulchion  drew, 
Each  on  the  ground  his  scabbard  threw. 
Each  look'd  to  sun,  and  stream,  and  plain, 
As  what  they  ne'er  might  see  again  ; 
Then  foot,  and  point,  and  eye  opposed, 
In  dubious  strife  they  darkly  closed. 


XV. 

Ill  fared  it  then  with  Roderick  Dhu, 
That  on  the  field  his  targe  he  threw. 


THE    COMBAT.  1C"J 


Whose  brazen  studs  and  lough  bull-hide 
Had  death  so  often  dash'd  aside  ; 
For,  train'd  abroad  his  arms  to  wield, 
Fitz-James's  blade  was  sword  and  shield. 
He  practised  every  pass  and  ward. 
To  thrust,  to  strike,  to  feint,  to  guard ; 
While  less  expert,  though  stronger  far, 
The  Gael  maintain'd  unequal  war. 
Three  times  in  closing  strife  they  stood. 
And  thrice  the  Saxon  blade  drank  blood ; 
No  stinted  draught,  no  scanty  tide, 
The  gushing  flood  the  tartans  dyed. 
Fierce  Roderick  felt  the  fatal  drain. 
And  shower'd  his  blows  like  wintry  rain  ; 
And,  as  firm  rock,  or  castle  roof. 
Against  the  winter  shower  is  proof. 
The  foe,  invulnerable  still, 
Foil'd  his  wild  rage  by  steady  skill ; 
Till,  at  advantage  ta'en,  his  brand 
Forced  Roderick's  weapon  from  his  hand, 
And,  backward  borne  upon  the  lea, 
Brought  the  proud  Chieflain  to  his  knee. 


"  Now,  yield  thee,  or  by  Him  who  made 
The  world,  thy  heart's  blood  dyes  ray  blade !" 


168  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

"  Thy  threats,  thy  mercy,  I  defy ! 

Let  recreant  yield  who  fears  to  die." 

Like  adder  darting  from  his  coil, 

Like  wolf  that  dashes  through  the  toil, 

Like  mountain-cat  who  guards  her  young. 

Full  at  Fitz-James's  throat  he  sprung ; 

Received,  bat  reck'd  not  of  a  wound, 

And  lock'd  his  arms  his  foeraan  round. — 

Now,  gallant  Saxon,  hold  thine  own  ! 

No  maiden's  hand  is  round  thee  thrown  ! 

That  desperate  grasp  thy  frame  might  feel. 

Through  bars  of  brass  and  triple  steel ! — 

They  tug,  they  strain ! — down,  down  they  go, 

The  Gael  above,  Fitz-James  below. 

The  Chieftain's  gripe  his  throat  compress'd, 

His  knee  was  planted  in  his  breast ; 

His  clotted  locks  he  backward  threw, 

Across  his  brow  his  hand  he  drew, 

From  blood  and  mist  to  clear  his  sight, 

Then  gleam'd  aloft  his  dagger  bright ! 

— But  hate  and  fury  ill  supplied 

The  stream  of  life's  exhausted  tide, 

And  all  too  late  the  advantage  came. 

To  turn  the  odds  of  deadly  game  ; 

For,  while  the  dagger  gleam'd  on  high, 

Reel'd  soul  and  sense,  reel'd  brain  and  eye. 


THE    COMBAT.  164 

Down  came  the  blow !  but  in  the  heath 
The  erring  blade  found  bloodless  sheath. 
The  struggling  foe  may  now  unclasp 
The  fainting  Chief's  relaxing  grasp  ; 
Unwounded  from  the  dreadful  close, 
But  breathless  all,  Fitz- James  arose. 

XVII. 

He  falter'd  thanks  to  Heaven  for  life, 

Redeem'd,  unhoped,  from  desperate  strife  , 

Next  on  his  foe  his  look  he  cast, 

Whose  every  gasp  appear'd  his  last ; 

In  Roderick's  gore  he  dipp'd  the  braid, — 

"  Poor  Blanche  !  thy  wrongs  are  dearly  paid  . 

Yet  with  thy  foe  must  die,  or  live, 

The  praise  that  Faith  and  Valour  give." 

With  that  he  blew  a  bugle-note. 

Undid  the  collar  from  his  throat, 

Unbonneted,  and  by  the  wave 

Sate  down  his  brow  and  hands  to  lave. 

Then  faint  afar  are  heard  the  feet 

Of  rushing  steeds  in  gallop  fleet ; 

The  sounds  increase,  and  now  are  seen 

Four  mounted  squires  in  Lincoln  green ; 

Tv/o  who  bear  lance,  and  two  wuo  lead, 

By  loosen'd  rein,  a  sadd'ed  steed  ; 


170  THF    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 


Each  onward  held  his  headlong  course. 
And  by  Fitz-James  rein'd  up  his  norse, — 
With  wonder  view'd  the  bloody  spot — 
"  Exclaim  not,  gallants  !  question  not. — 
You,  Herbert  and  Luffness,  alight. 
And  bind  the  wounds  of  yonder  knight ; 

Let  the  gray  palfrey  bear  his  weight, 
We  destined  for  a  fairer  freight. 

And  bring  him  on  to  Stirling  straight : 

I  will  before  at  better  speed, 

To  seek  fresh  horse  and  fitting  weed. 

The  sun  rides  high  ; — I  must  be  boune 

To  see  the  archer-game  at  noon  ; 

But  lightly  Bayard  clears  the  lea, — 

De  Vaux  and  Herries,  follow  me. 

XVIII. 

"Stand,  Bayard,  stand!" — The  steed  obey'd, 

With  arching  neck  and  bended  head. 

And  glancing  eye,  and  quivering  ear, 

As  if  he  loved  his  lord  to  hear. 

No  foot  Fitz-James  in  stirrup  stav'd, 

No  grasp  upon  the  saddle  laid. 

But  wreathed  his  left  hand  in  the  mane, 

And  lightly  bounded  from  the  plain, 

Turn'd  on  the  horse  his  armed  heel. 

And  stirr'd  his  courage  with  the  steeL 


T  H  E    C  0  M  B  A  T.  171 


Bounded  the  fiery  steed  in  air, 
The  rider  sate  erect  and  fair, 
Then,  like  a  bolt  from  steel  crossbow 
Forth  launch'd,  along  the  plain  they  go. 
They  dash'd  that  rapid  torrent  through, 
And  up  Carhonie's  hill  they  flew ; 
Still  at  'the  gallop  prick'd  the  Knight, 
His  merry-men  follow'd  as  they  might. 
Along  thy  banks,  swift  Teith!  they  ride, 
And  in  the  race  they  mock  thy  tide  ; 
Torry  and  Lendrick  now  are  past, 
And  Deanstown  lies  behind  them  cast ; 
They  rise,  the  banner'd  towers  of  Doune, 
They  sink  in  distant  woodland  soon  ; 
Blair-Drummond  sees  the  hoofs  strike  fire, 
They  sweep  like  breeze  through  Ochtertyre , 
They  mark  just  glance  and  disappear 
The  lofty  brow  of  ancient  Kier  ; 
They  bathe  their  coursers'  sweltering  sides, 
Dark  Forth !  amid  thy  sluggish  tides, 
And  on  the  opposing  shore  take  ground. 
With  plash,  with  scramble,  and  with  bound. 
Right-hand  they  leave  thy  cliffs,  Craig-Forth 
And  soon  the  bulwark  of  the  North, 
Gray  Stirling,  with  her  towers  and  town, 
Upon  their  fleet  career  look'd  down. 


172  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 


As  up  the  flinty  path  they  strain'd, 

Sudden  his  steed  the  leader  rein'd  ; 

A  signal  to  his  squire  he  flung, 

Who  instant  to  his  stirrup  sprung : 

"  Seest  thou,  De  Vaux,  yon  woodsman  gray, 

Who  townward  holds  the  rocky  way. 

Of  stature  tall  and  poor  array  ? 

Mark'st  thou  the  firm,  yet  active  stride, 

With  which  he  scales  the  mountain  side  ? 

Know'st  thou  from  whence  he  comes,  or  whom?'' 

"  No,  by  my  word  ; — a  burly  groom 

He  seems,  who  in  the  field  or  chase 

A  baron's  train  would  nobly  grace." 

<'  Out,  out,  De  Vaux  !  can  fear  supply, 

And  jealousy,  no  sharper  eye? 

Afar,  ere  to  the  hill  he  drew, 

That  stately  form  and  step  I  knew  ; 

Like  form  in  Scotland  is  not  seen. 

Treads  not  such  step  on  Scottish  green. 

'Tis  James  of  Douglas,  by  Saint  Serle ! 

The  uncle  of  the  banish'd  Earl. 

Away,  away,  to  court,  to  show 

The  near  approach  of  dreaded  foe  : 

The  King  must  stand  upon  his  guard; 

Douglas  and  he  must  meet  prepared." 


THE    COMBAT.  178 


Then  right-hand  wheel'd  their  steeds,  and  straight 
They  won  the  castle's  postern  gate. 

XX. 

The  Douglas,  who  had  bent  his  way 

From  Cambus-Kenneth's  abbey  gray, 

Now,  as  he  climb'd  the  rocky  shelf, 

Held  sad  communion  with  himself 

"Yes !  all  is  true  my  fears  could  frame  . 

A  prisoner  lies  the  noble  Graeme, 

And  fiery  Roderick  soon  will  feel 

The  vengeance  of  the  royal  steel. 

I,  only  I,  can  ward  their  fate, — 

God  grant  the  ransom  come  not  late  ! 

The  Abbess  hath  her  promise  given, 

My  child  shall  be  the  bride  of  Heaven  ; — 

— Be  pardon'd  one  repining  tear ! 

For  He,  who  gave  her,  knows  how  dear, 

How  excellent ! — but  that  is  by, 

And  now  my  buiness  is — to  die. 

— Ye  towers !  within  whose  circuit  dread 

A  Douglas  by  his  sovereign  bled. 

And  thou,  0  sad  and  fatal  mound  !* 

That  oft  hast  heard  the  death-axe  sound, 


•  An  eminence  on  the  northeast  of  the  castle,  where  stale  criminals 
were  executed.     See  note. 


t74        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

As  on  the  noblest  of  the  land 

Fell  the  stem  headsman's  bloody  hand, — 

The  dungeon,  block,  and  nameless  tomb 

Prepare, — for  Douglas  seeks  his  doom  ! 

— But  hark !  what  blithe  and  jolly  peal 

Makes  the  Franciscan  steeple  reel  ? 

And  see !  upon  the  crowded  street, 

In  motley  groups  what  masquers  meet ! 

Banner  and  pageant,  pipe  and  drum, 

And  merry  morrice-dancers  come. 

I  guess,  by  all  this  quaint  array, 

The  burghers  hold  their  sports  to-day. 

James  will  be  there  ; — he  loves  such  show. 

Where  the  good  yeoman  bends  his  bow. 

And  the  tough  wrestler  foils  his  foe. 

As  well  as  where,  in  proud  career. 

The  high-born  tiher  shivers  spear. 

I'll  follow  to  the  Castle-park, 

And  play  my  prize  : — King  James  shall  mark, 

If  age  has  tamed  these  sinews  stark, 

Whose  force  so  oft,  in  happier  days, 

His  boyish  wonder  loved  to  praise." 


XXI. 

The  Castle  gates  were  open  flung. 

The  quivermg  drawbridge  rock'd  and  rung. 


THE    COMBAT.  175 

And  echo'd  loud  the  flinty  street 

Beneath  the  coursers'  chitterlng  feet, 

As  slowly  down  the  steep  descent 

Fair  Scotland's  King  and  nobles  went, 

While  all  along  the  crowded  way 

Was  jubilee  and  loud  huzza. 

And  ever  James  was  bending  low, 

To  his  white  jennet's  saddle  bow. 

Doffing  his  cap  to  city  dame, 

Who  smiled  and  blush'd  for  pride  and  shame. 

And  well  the  simperer  might  be  vain, — 

He  chose  the  fairest  of  the  train. 

Gravely  he  greets  each  city  sire, 

Commends  each  pageant's  quaint  attire. 

Gives  to  the  dancers  thanks  aloud, 

And  smiles  and  nods  upon  the  crowd, 

Who  rend  the  heavens  with  their  acclaims, 

"Long  live  the  Commons'  King,  King  Jatm-s  '" 

Behind  the  King  throng'd  peer  and  knight, 

And  noble  dame  and  damsel  bright, 

Whose  fiery  steeds  ill  brook'd  the  stay 

Of  the  steep  street  and  crowded  way. 

— But  in  the  train  you  might  discern 

Dark  lowering  brow  and  visage  stern  ; 

There  nobles  mourn'd  their  pride  restrair.'d, 

And  the  mean  burgher's  joys  disdain'd  ; 


176       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


And  chiefs,  who,  hostage  for  their  clan, 
Were  each  from  home  a  banish'd  man, 
There  thought  upon  their  own  gray  tower, 
Their  waving  woods,  their  feudal  power. 
And  deem'd  themselves  a  shameful  part 
Of  pageant  which  they  cursed  in  heart. 


XXII. 

Now,  in  the  Castle-parlc,  drew  out 
Their  chequer'd  bands  the  joyous  rout. 
There  morricers,  with  bell  at  heel, 
And  blade  in  hand,  their  mazes  wheel ; 
But  chief,  beside  the  butts,  there  stana 
Bold  Robin  Hood  and  all  his  band, — 
Friar  Tuck  with  quarter-staff  and  cowl. 
Old  Scathelocke  with  his  surly  scowl. 
Maid  Marian,  fair  as  ivory  bone, 
Scarlet,  and  Mutch,  and  Little  John  ; 
Their  bugles  challenge  all  that  will, 
In  archery  to  prove  their  skill. 
The  Douglas  bent  a  bow  of  might, — 
His  first  shaft  center'd  in  the  white. 
And  when  in  turn  he  shot  again, 
His  second  split  the  first  in  twain. 
From  the  King's  hand  must  Douglas  take 
A  silver  dart, 'the  archers'  stake  ; 


THE    COMBAT.  177 


Fondly  he  watch'd,  with  watery  eye, 
Some  answering  glance  of  sympathy, — 
No  kind  emotion  made  reply ! 
Indifferent  as  to  archer  wight, 
The  Monarch  gave  the  arrow  bright. 


XXIII. 

Now,  clear  the  Ring!  for,  hand  to  hand, 
The  manly  wrestlers  take  their  stand. 
Two  o'er  the  rest  superior  rose, 
And  proud  demanded  mightier  foes, 
Nor  call'd  in  vain  ;  for  Douglas  came. 
— For  life  is  Hugh  of  Larbert  lame  ; 
Scarce  better  John  of  Alloa's  fare, 
Whom  senseless  home  his  comrades  bear. 
Prize  of  the  wrestling  match,  the  King 
To  Douglas  gave  a  golden  ring, 
VVliile  coldly  glanced  his  eye  of  blue. 
As  frozen  drop  of  wintry  dew. 
Douglas  would  speak,  but  in  his  breast 
His  struggling  soul  his  words  suppress'd : 
Indignant  then  he  turn'd  him  where 
Their  arms  the  brawny  yeomen  bare, 
To  hurl  the  massive  bar  in  air. 
When  each  his  utmost  strength  had  shown. 
The  Douglas  rent  an  earth-fast  stone 


178       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

From  its  deep  bed,  then  heaved  it  high, 
And  sent  the  fragment  through  the  sky, 
A  rood  beyond  the  farthest  mark  ; — 
And  still  in  Stirling's  royal  park, 
The  gray-hair'd  sires  who  know  the  past, 
To  strangers  point  the  Douglas-cast, 
And  moralize  on  the  decay 
Of  Scottish  strength  in  modern  day. 


The  vale  with  loud  applauses  rang, 
The  Ladies'  Rock  sent  back  the  clang ; 
The  King,  wdth  look  unmoved,  bestow'd 
A  purse  well  fill'd  with  pieces  broad. 
Indignant  smiled  the  Douglas  proud, 
And  threw  the  gold  among  the  crowd, 
Who  now,  with  anxious  wonder,  scan, 
And  sharper  glance,  the  dark  gray  man  ; 
Till  whispers  rose  among  the  throng. 
That  heart  so  free,  and  hand  so  strong. 
Must  to  the  Douglas  blood  belong : 
The  old  men  mark'd  and  shook  the  liead 
To  see  his  hair  with  silver  spread, 
And  wink'd  aside,  and  told  each  son 
Of  feats  upon  the  English  done. 
Ere  Douglas  of  the  stalwart  hand 
Was  exiled  from  his  native  land. 


THE    COMBAT.  1T9 

The  women  praised  his  stately  form, 
Though  wreck'd  by  many  a  winter's  storm  ; 
The  youth  with  awe  and  wonder  saw 
His  strength  surpassing  Nature's  law. 
Thus  judged,  as  is  their  wont,  the  crowd, 
Till  murmur  rose  to  clamours  loud. 
But  not  a  glance  from  that  proud  ring 
Of  peers  who  circled  round  the  King, 
With  Douglas  held  communion  kind, 
Or  call'd  the  banish'd  man  to  mind  ; 
No,  not  from  those,  who,  at  the  chase, 
Once  held  his  side  the  honour'd  place, 
Begirt  his  board,  and,  in  the  field, 
Found  safety  underneath  his  shield  ; 
For  he,  whom  royal  eyes  disown, 
When  was  his  form  to  courtiers  known! 


The  Monarch  saw  the  gambols  flag, 

And  bade  let  loose  a  gallant  stag, 

Whose  pride,  the  holiday  to  crow^n, 

Two  favourite  greyhounds  should  pull  down, 

That  venison  free,  and  Bordeaux  wine, 

Might  serve  the  archery  to  dine. 

But  Lufi-a, — whom  from  Douglas'  side 

Nor  bribe  nor  threat  could  e'er  divide, 


180  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

The  fleetest  hound  in  all  the  North, — 

Brave  Lufra  saw,  and  darted  forth. 

She  left  the  royal  hounds  midway, 

And,  dashing  on  the  antler'd  prey, 

Sunk  her  sharp  muzzle  in  his  flank, 

And  deep  the  flowing  life-blood  drank. 

The  King's  stout  huntsman  saw  the  sport 

By  strange  intruder  broken  short, 

Came  up,  and,  with  his  leash  unbound, 

In  anger  struck  the  noble  hound. 

— The  Douglas  had  endured,  that  morn, 

The  King's  cold  look,  the  nobles'  scorn. 

And  last,  and  worst  to  spirit  proud, 

Had  borne  the  pity  of  the  crowd  ; 

But  Lufra  had  been  fondly  bred, 

To  share  his  board,  to  watch  his  bed, 

And  oft  would  Ellen,  Lufra's  neck. 

In  maiden  glee,  with  garlands  deck  ; 

They  were  such  playmates,  that  with  name 

Of  Lufra,  Ellen's  image  came. 

His  stifled  wrath  is  brimming  high, 

In  darken'd  brow  and  flashing  eye ; 

As  waves  before  the  bark  divide. 

The  crowd  gave  way  before  his  stride  . 

Needs  but  a  buffet  and  no  more, 

The  groom  lies  senseless  in  his  gore. 


I 


THE    COMBAT.  IS] 


Such  blow  no  other  hand  could  deal, 
Though  gauntleted  in  glove  of  steel. 


XXVI. 

Then  claraour'd  loud  the  royal  train. 
And  brandish'd  swords  and  staves  amain. 
But  stern  the  Baron's  warning — '«  Back! 
Back,  on  your  lives,  ye  menial  pack ! 
Beware  the  Douglas. — Yes!  behold, 
King  James,  the  Douglas,  doom'd  of  old, 
And  vainly  sought  for  near  and  far, 
A  victim  to  atone  the  war, 
A  willing  victim,  now  attends, 
Nor  craves  thy  grace  but  for  his  friends." 
— "  Thus  is  my  clemency  repaid  ? 
Presumptuous  Lord!"  the  Monarch  said  ; 
"  Of  thy  mis-proud  ambitious  clan. 
Thou,  James  of  Bothwell,  wert  the  man, 
The  only  man,  in  whom  a  foe 
My  woman-mercy  would  not  know : 
But  shall  a  monarch's  presence  brook 
Injurious  blow,  and  haughty  look  ? — 
What  ho  !  the  Captain  of  our  Guard  I 
Give  the  offender  fitting  ward. — 
Break  off  the  sports  !" — for  tumult  rose, 
\.nd  yeoman  'gan  to  bend  their  bows  !^ 


183  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 

"Break  off  the  sports!" — he  said,  and  irown'd, 
<<  And  bid  our  horsemen  clear  the  ground." 


XXVII. 

Then  uproar  wild  and  misarray 
Marr'd  the  fair  form  of  festal  day. 
The  horsemen  prick'd  among  the  crowd. 
Repell'd  by  threats  and  insult  loud : 
To  earth  are  borne  the  old  and  weak. 
The  timorous  fly,  the  women  shriek; 
With  flint,  with  shaft,  with  staff,  with  bar, 
The  hardier  urge  tumultuous  war. 
At  once  round  Douglas  darkly  sv;eep 
The  royal  spears  in  circle  deep, 
And  slowly  scale  the  pathway  steep ; 
While  on  the  rear  in  thunder  pour  - 
The  rabble  with  disorder'd  roar. 
With  grief  the  noble  Douglas  saw 
The  Commons  rise  against  the  law. 
And  to  the  leading  soldier  said, — 
"  Sir  John  of  Hyndford !  'twas  my  blade 
That  knighthood  on  thy  shoulder  laid  ; 
For  that  good  deed,  permit  me  then 
A  word  with  these  misguided  men. 


THE    COMBAT.  ISU 


"  Hear,  gentle  friends!  ere  yet,  for  me, 

Ye  break  the  bands  of  fealty. 

My  life,  my  honour,  and  my  cause, 

I  tender  free  to  Scotland's  laws. 

Are  these  so  weak  as  must  require 

The  aid  of  your  misguided  ire  ? 

Or,  if  I  suffer  causeless  WTong, 

Is  then  my  selfish  rage  so  strong, 

My  sense  of  public  weal  so  low, 

That,  for  mean  vengeance  on  a  foe, 

Those  cords  of  love  I  should  unbind. 

Which  knit  my  country  and  my  kind? 

Oh  no  !     Believe,  in  yonder  tow^er. 

It  will  not  soothe  my  captive  hour, 

To  know^  those  spears  our  foes  should  dread, 

For  me  in  kindred  gore  are  red ; 

To  know,  in  fruitless  brawl  begun. 

For  me,  that  mother  wails  her  son ; 

For  me,  that  widow's  mate  expires. 

For  me,  that  orphans  weep  their  sires, 

That  patriots  mourn  insulted  law^s, 

And  curse  the  Douglas  for  the  cause. 

0  let  your  patience  ward  such  ill. 

And  keep  your  right  to  love  me  still!" 


184       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


XXIX. 

The  crowd's  wild  fury  sunk  again 

In  tears,  as  tempests  melt  in  rain. 

With  lifted  hands  and  eyes,  they  pray'd 

For  blessings  on  his  generous  head, 

\^lio  for  his  country  felt  alone, 

And  prized  her  blood  beyond  his  own. 

Old  men,  upon  the  verge  of  life, 

Bless'd  him  who  stay'd  the  civil  strife  ; 

And  mothers  held  their  babes  on  high, 

The  self-devoted  Chief  to  spy, 

Triumphant  over  wrong  and  ire, 

To  whom  the  prattlers  owed  a  sire : 

Even  the  rough  soldier's  heart  was  moved  ; 

As  if  behind  some  bier  beloved, 

With  trailing  arms  and  drooping  head, 

The  Douglas  up  the  hill  he  led. 

And  at  the  Castle's  battled  verge, 

With  sighs,  resign'd  his  honnur'd  charge, 


XXX. 

The  offended  Monarch  rode  apart, 
With  bitter  thought  and  swelling  heart, 
And  would  not  now  vouchsafe  again 
Throuofh  Stirlinsr  streets  to  lead  his  tram. 


THE    COMBAT.  185 


"  0  Lenndx,  who  would  wish  to  rule 
This  changeling  crowd,  this  common  fool  ? 
Hear'st  thou,"  he  said,  "  the  loud  acclaim, 
With  which  they  shout  the  Douglas'  name  ^ 
With  like  acclaim,  the  vulgar  throat 
Strain'd  for  King  James  their  morning  note  ; 
With  like  acclaim  they  hail'd  the  day 
When  first  I  broke  the  Douglas'  sway ; 
And  like  acclaim  would  Douglas  greet, 
If  he  could  hurl  me  from  my  seat. 
Who  o'er  the  herd  would  wish  to  reign, 
Fantastic,  fickle,  fierce,  and  vain  ! 
Vain  as  the  leaf  upon  the  stream. 
And  fickle  as  a  changeful  dream  ; 
Fantastic  as  a  woman's  mood. 
And  fierce  as  Frenzy's  fever'd  blood. 
Thou  many-headed  monster-thing, 
0  who  would  wish  to  be  thy  king ! 


XXXI. 

"  But  soft !  what  messenger  of  speed 

Spurs  hitherward  his  panting  steed? 

I  guess  his  cognisance  afar — 

What  from  our  cousin.  John  of  Mar?" 

"He  prays,  my  liege,  your  sports  keep  bound 

Within  the  safe  and  "[uarded  ground : 


1R6  THE    LADY   OF    THE    LAKE. 

For  some  foul  purpose  yet  unknown, — 
Most  sure  for  evil  to  the  throne, — 
The  outlaw'd  Chieftahi,  Roderick  Dhu, 
Has  suramon'd  his  rebellious  crew  : 
'Tis  said,  in  James  of  Bothwell's  aid 
These  loose  banditti  stand  array'd. 
The  Earl  of  Mar,  this  morn,  from  Doune, 
To  break  their  muster  march'd,  and  soon 
Your  grace  will  hear  of  battle  fought ; 
But  earnestly  the  Earl  besought, 
Till  for  such  danger  he  provide, 
With  scanty  train  you  will  not  ride." 


XXXII. 

<'  Thou  warn'st  me  I  have  done  amiss,— 
I  should  have  earlier  look'd  to  this : 
I  lost  it  in  this  bustling  day. 
— Retraco  with  speed  thy  former  way  ; 
Spare  not  for  spoiling  of  thy  steed, 
The  best  of  mine  shall  be  thy  meed. 
Say  to  our  faithful  Lord  of  Mar, 
We  do  forbid  the  intended  war ; 
Roderick,  this  morn,  in  single  fight, 
Was  made  our  prisoner  by  a  knight, 
And  Douglas  hath  himself  and  cause 
Submitted  to  our  Kingdom's  laws. 


THE    COMBAT.  18? 


The  tidings  of  their  leaders  lost 

Will  soon  dissolve  the  mountain  host, 

Nor  would  we  that  the  vulgar  feel, 

For  their  Chief's  crimes,  avenging  steel. 

Bear  Mar  our  message.  Brace  ;  fly!" 

He  turu'd  his  steed, — "  My  liege,  I  hie, 

Yet  ere  I  cross  this  lily  lawn, 

I  fear  the  broadswords  will  be  drawn." 

The  turf  the  flying  courser  spurn'd. 

And  to  his  towers  the  King  return'a 


111  with  King  James's  mood  that  day, 
Suited  gay  feast  and  minstrel  lay ; 
Soon  were  dismiss'd  the  courtly  throng, 
And  soon  cut  short  the  festal  song. 
Nor  less  upon  the  sadden'd  town 
The  evenins"  «uak  in  sorrow  down. 
The  burghers  spoke  of  civil  jar, 
Of  rumour'd  feuds  and  mountain  war^ 
Of  Moray,  Mar.  and  Roderick  Dhu , 
All  up  in  arms : — the  Douglas  too, 
They  mourn'd  him  pent  within  the  hold, 
"  Where  stout  Earl  William  was  of  old"- 

*,  Stabbed  by  James  II.  in  Stirling  Castle. 


I8«  THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 

And  there  his  word  the  speaker  stay'd, 

And  finger  on  his  lip  he  laid, 

Or  pointed  to  his  dagger  blade. 

But  jaded  horsemen  from  the  west, 

At  evening  to  the  Castle  press'd  ; 

And  busy  talkers  said  they  bore 

Tidings  of  fight  on  Katrine's  shore. , 

At  noon  the  deadly  fray  begun, 

And  lasted  till  the  set  of  sun. 

Thus  giddy  Rumour  shook  the  toun, 

Till  closed  the  Night  her  pennons  browE. 


SHio  OP  cAHTo  virm.. 


CANTO  SIXTH. 

^rje  CSuart'SiJoonT. 

I. 

The  sun,  awakening,  through  the  smoky  air 

Of  the  dark  city  cast  a  sullen  glance, 
Rousing  each  caitiff  to  his  task  of  care. 

Of  sinful  man  the  sad  inheritance  • 
Summoning  revellers  from  the  lagging  dance, 

Scaring  the  prowling  robber  to  his  den  ; 
Gilding  on  battled  tower  the  warder's  lance, 

And  warning  student  pale  to  leave  his  pen 
And  yield  his  drowsy  eyes  to  the  kind  nurse  of  men 

What  various  scenes,  and  0 !  what  scenes  of  wo. 

Are  witness'd  by  that  red  and  struggling  beam ! 
The  fever'd  patient,  from  his  pallet  low, 

I'hrough  crowded  hospital  beholds  its  stream  ; 
The  ruin'd  maiden  trembles  at  its  gleam, 

The  debtor  wakes  to  thought  of  gyve  and  jail, 
The  love-lorn  wretch  starts  from  tormenting  dream  ; 

The  wakeful  mother,  by  the  glimmering  pale, 
Trims  her  sick  infant's  couch,  and  soothes  his  feeble  wail. 


190       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


II. 

At  dawn  the  towers  of  Stirling  rang 

With  soldier-step  and  weapon-clang, 

While  drums,  with  rolling  note,  foretell 

Relief  to  weary  sentinel. 

Through  narrow  loop  and  casement  barr'a. 

The  sunbeams  sought  the  Court  of  Guard, 

And,  struggling  with  the  smoky  air, 

Deaden'd  the  torches'  yellow  glare. 

In  comfortless  alliance  shone 

The  lights  through  arch  of  blacken'd  f^tone- 

And  show'd  wild  shapes  in  garb  of  war, 

Faces  deform'd  with  beard  and  scar, 

All  haggard  from  the  midnight  watch, 

And  fever'd  with  the  stern  debauch  ; 

For  the  oak  table's  massive  board, 

Flooded  with  wine,  with  fragments  stored. 

And  beakers  drain'd,  and  cups  o'erthrown, 

Show'd  in  what  sport  the  night  had  flown. 

Some,  weary,  snored  on  floor  and  bench  ; 

Some  labour'd  still  their  thirst  to  quench  : 

Some,  chill'd  with  watching,  spread  their  hands 

O'er  the  huge  chimney's  dying  bre.nds, 

While  round  them,  or  beside  them  flung. 

At  every  step  their  harness  rung. 


THE    GTJA.RD-ROOM.  191 


III. 
These  drew  not  for  their  fields  the  sword, 
Like  tenants  of  a  feudal  lord, 
Nor  own'd  the  patriarchal  claim 
Of  chieftain  in  their  leader's  name  ; 
Adventurers  they  from  far,  who  roved, 
To  live  by  battle  which  they  loved. 
There  the  Italian's  clouded  face, 
The  swarthy  Spaniard's  there  you  trace  ; 
The  mountain-loving  Switzer  there 
More  freely  breathed  in  mountain  air  , 
The  Fleming  there  despised  the  soil, 
That  paid  so  ill  the  labourer's  toil ; 
Their  rolls  show'd  French  and  German  name  , 
And  merry  England's  exiles  came, 
To  share,  v/ith  ill-conceal'd  disdain, 
Of  Scotland's  pay  the  scanty  gain. 
All  brave  in  arms,  well  train'd  to  wield 
The  heavy  halberd,  brand,  and  shield  ; 
In  camps  licentious,  wild,  and  bold  ; 
In  pillage  fierce  and  uncontroll'd  ; 
And  now  by  holytide  and  feast, 
From  rules  of  discipline  released. 


192        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


IV. 

They  held  debate  of  bloody  fray, 

Fought  'twixt  Loch-Katrine  and  Achriy. 

Fierce  was  their  speech,  and,  'mid  their  words, 

Their  hands  oft  grappled  to  their  swords ; 

Nor  sunk  their  tone  to  spare  the  ear 

Of  wounded  comrades  groaning  near, 

Whose  mangled  limbs,  and  bodies  gcred, 

Bore  token  of  the  mountain  sword, 

Thouo-h,  neighbouring  to  the  Court  of  Guard, 

Their  prayers  and  feverish  wails  werr  heard : 

Sad  burden  to  the  ruffian  joke, 

And  savage  oath  by  fury  spoke  ! — 

At  length  up  started  John  of  Brent ; 

A  yeoman  from  the  banks  of  Trent ; 

A  stranger  to  respect  or  fear, 

In  peace  a  chaser  of  the  deer. 

In  host  a  hardy  mutineer. 

But  still  the  boldest  of  the  crew, 

When  deed  of  danger  was  to  do. 

He  grieved,  that  day,  their  games  cut  slort, 

And  marr'd  the  dicer's  brawling  sport, 

And  shouted  loud,  "  Renew  the  bowl ! 

And,  while  a  merry  catch  I  troll, 

Let  each  the  buxom  chorus  bear, 

Like  brethren  of  the  brand  and  spear." 


Let  eacl.  tKe  luxoia  ct-Oius  Leai. 

like  tietheren  of  the  Liaad  and  speai 


THE    GUARD -ROOM.  19J 


SOLDIER'S    SONG. 

Our  vicar  still  preaches  that  Peter  and  Poulij 

Laid  a  swinging  long  curse  on  the  bonny  brown  bowl, 

That  there's  wrath  and  despair  in  the  jolly  black-jack, 

And  the  seven  deadly  sins  in  a  flagon  of  sack ; 

Yet  whoop,  Barnaby!  off  with  thy  liquor, 

Drink  upsees*  out,  and  a  fig  for  the  vicar ' 

Our  vicar  he  calls  it  damnation  to  sip 

The  ripe  ruddy  dew  of  a  woman's  dear  lip  ; 

Says,  that  Beelzebub  lurks  in  her  kerchief  so  sly, 

And  Apollyon  shoots  darts  from  her  merry  black  eye  ; 

Yet  whoop,  Jack  !  kiss  Gillian  the  quicker, 

Till  she  bloom  like  a  rose,  and  a  fig  for  the  vicar ' 

Our  vicar  thus  preaches — and  why  should  he  not  ? 
For  the  dues  of  his  cure  are  the  placket  and  pot ; 
And  'tis  right  of  his  office  poor  laymen  to  lurch. 
Who  infringe  the  domains  of  our  good  Mother  Church 
Yet  whoop,  bully-boys!  off  with  your  liquor, 
Sweet  Marjorie's  the  word,  and  a  fig  for  the  vicar! 

*  A  Bacchanalian  interjection,  borrowed  from  the  Patch. 


i94       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


VI. 

The  warder's  challenge,  heard  wuhout, 

Stay'd  in  mid-roar  the  merry  shout, 

A  soldier  to  the  portal  went, — 

"  Here  is  old  Bertram,  sirs,  of  Ghent ; 

And,  beat  for  jubilee  the  drum  ! 

A  maid  and  minstrel  wdth  him  come." 

Bertram,  a  Fleming,  gray  and  scarr'd. 

Was  entering  now  the  Court  of  Guard, 

A  harper  with  him,  and,  in  plaid 

All  muffled  close,  a  mountain  maid, 

Who  backward  shrunk  to  'scape  the  view 

Of  the  loose  scene  and  boisterous  crew. 

"What  news?"  they  roar'd. — "  I  only  know, 

From  noon  till  eve  we  fought  with  foe, 

As  wild  and  as  untameable. 

As  the  rude  mountains  where  they  dwell. 

On  both  sides  store  of  blood  is  lost, 

Nor  much  success  can  either  boast." 

"But  whence  thy  captives,  friend?  such  spoil 

As  theirs  must  needs  reward  thy  toil. 

Old  dost  thou  wax,  and  w^ars  grow  shaip  ; 

Thou  now  hast  glee-maiden  and  harp! 

Get  thee  an  ape,  and  trudge  the  land, 

The  leader  of  a  juggler  band." 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  195 


VII. 

"  No,  comrade  ; — no  such  fortune  mine. 

After  the  fight,  these  sought  our  line, 

That  aged  harper  and  the  girl, 

And,  having  audience  of  the  Earl, 

Mar  bade  I  should  purvey  them  steed. 

And  bring  them  hitherward  with  speed. 

Forbear  your  mirth  and  rude  alarm, 

For  none  shall  do  them  shame  or  harm." 

"  Hear  ye  his  boast!"  cried  John  of  Brent, 

Ever  to  strife  and  jangling  bent ; 

"  Shall  he  strike  doe  beside  our  lodge, 

And  yet  the  jealous  niggard  grudge 

To  pay  the  forester  his  fee  ! 

I'll  have  my  share  howe'er  it  b   , 

Despite  of  Moray,  Mar,  or  thee. 

Bertram  his  forward  step  withstood  ; 

And,  burning  in  his  vengeful  mood, 

Old  Allan,  though  unfit  for  strife, 

Laid  hand  upon  his  dagger-knife  ; 

But  Ellen  boldly  stepp'd  between, 

And  dropp'd  at  once  the  tartan  screen  ! — 

So,  from  his  morning  cloud,  appears 

The  son  of  May,  through  summer  tears. 

The  savage  soldiery,  amazed, 

As  on  descended  angel  gazed ; 


196       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


Even  hardy  Brent,  abash'd  and  tamed, 
Stood  half  admiring,  half  ashamed. 

VIII. 

Boldly  she  spoke, — "Soldiers,  attend' 
My  father  was  the  soldier's  friend  ; 
Cheer'd  him  in  camps,  in  marches  led, 
And  with  him  in  the  battle  bled. 
Not  from  the  valiant,  or  the  strong, 
Should  exile's  daughter  suffer  wrong." 
Answer'd  De  Brent,  most  forward  still 
In  every  feat,  or  good  or  ill, — 
"  I  shame  me  of  the  part  I  play'd  : 
And  thou  an  outlaw's  child,  poor  maid  ! 
An  outlaw  I  by  forest  laws. 
And  merry  Needwood  knoAV's  the  cause. 
Poor  Rose, — if  Rose  be  living  now," 
He  wiped  his  iron  eye  and  brow, 
"  Must  bear  such  age,  I  think,  as  thou. 
Hear  ye,  my  mates  ; — I  go  to  call 
The  Captain  of  our  watch  to  hall : 
There  lies  my  halberd  on  the  floor ; 
And  he  that  steps  my  halberd  o'er, 
To  do  the  maid  injurious  part, 
My  shaft  shall  quiver  in  his  heart!— 
Bev/are  loose  speech,  or  jesting  rough: 
Ye  all  know  John  de  Brent.     Enough.'* 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  19T 


IX. 

Their  Captain  came,  a  gallant  young, — 

(Of  Tullibardine's  house  he  sprung/: 

I'for  wore  he  yet  the  spurs  of  knight ; 

Gay  was  his  mien,  his  humour  light, 

And,  though  by  courtesy  controll'd, 

Forward  his  speech,  his  bearing  bold 

The  high-born  maiden  ill  could  brook 

The  scanning  of  his  curious  look 

And  dauntless  eye ; — and  yet,  in  sooth, 

Young  Lewis  was  a  generous  youth ; 

But  Ellen's  lovely  face  and  mien. 

Ill-suited  to  the  garb  and  scene, 

Might  lightly  bear  construction  strange, 

And  give  loose  fancy  scope  to  range. 

"Welcome  to  Stirling  towers,  fair  maid! 

Come  ye  to  seek  a  champion's  aid, 

On  palfrey  white,  with  harper  hoar, 

Like  errant  damosel  of  yore  ? 

Does  thy  high  quest  a  knight  require, 

Or  may  the  venture  suit  a  squire  ?" 

Her  dark  eye  flash'd: — she  paused  and  sigh'd,- 

'<  0  what  have  I  to  do  with  pride  ! — 

— Through  scenes  of  sorrow,  shame,  and  stri^'a, 

A  suppliant  for  a  father's  life, 

I  crave  an  audience  of  the  King. 

Behold,  to  back  my  suit,  a  ring. 


198        THE  LADY  OF  THh  LAKE. 

The  royal  pledge  of  grateful  claims, 
Given  by  the  Monarch  to  Fitz-James." 

X. 

The  signet-ring  young  Lewis  took, 

With  deep  respect  and  alter'd  look ; 

And  said, — "  This  ring  our  duties  own  ; 

And  pardon,  if  to  worth  unknown. 

In  semblance  mean  obscurely  veil'd. 

Lady,  in  aught  my  folly  fail'd. 

Soon  as  the  day  flings  wide  his  gates, 

The  King  shall  know  what  suitor  waits. 

Please  you,  meanwhile,  in  fitting  bower 

Repose  you  till  his  waking  hour  ; 

Female  attendance  shall  obey 

Your  best,  for  service  or  array. 

Permit,  I  marshal  you  the  way." 

But,  ere  she  follow'd,  with  the  grace 

And  open  bounty  of  her  race. 

She  bade  her  slender  purse  be  shared 

Among  the  soldiers  of  the  guard. 

The  rest  with  thanks  their  guerdon  took , 

But  Brent,  with  shy  and  awkward  look, 

On  the  reluctant  maiden's  hold 

Forced  bluntly  back  the  proflfer'd  gold : — 

"  Forgive  a  haughty  English  heart, 

And  0  forget  its  ruder  part ! 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  199 


The  vacant  purse  shall  be  my  share, 

Which  in  my  barret-cap  I'll  bear, 

Perchance,  in  jeopardy  of  war, 

Where  gayer  crests  may  keep  afar." 

With  thanks, — 'twas  all  she  could, — the  maid 

His  rugged  courtesy  repaid. 


XI. 

When  Ellen  forth  with  Lewis  went, 
Allan  made  suit  to  John  of  Brent: — 
<'  My  lady  safe,  0  let  your  grace 
Give  me  to  see  my  master's  face  ! 
His  minstrel  I, — to  share  his  doom. 
Bound  from  the  cradle  to  the  tomb. 
Tenth  in  descent,  since  first  my  sires 
Waked  for  his  noble  house  their  lyres, 
Nor  one  of  all  the  race  was  known 
But  prized  its  weal  above  their  own. 
With  the  Chiefs  birth  begins  our  care  ; 
Our  harp  must  soothe  the  infant  heir, 
Teach  the  youth  tales  of  fight,  and  grace 
His  earliest  feat  of  field  or  chase  ; 
In  peace,  in  war,  our  rank  we  keep, 
We  cheer  his  board,  we  soothe  his  sleep, 
Nor  leave  him  till  we  pour  our  verse, — 
A  doleful  tribute  ! — o'er  his  hearse. 


200       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

Then  let  me  share  his  captive  lot , 
It  is  my  right — deny  it  not !" 
<<  Little  we  reck,"  said  John  of  Brent, 
"  We  Southern  men,  of  long  descent : 
Nor  wot  we  how  a  name — a  word — 
Makes  clansmen  vassals  to  a  lord : 
Yet  kind  my  noble  landlord's  part, — 
God  bless  the  house  of  Beaudesert ! 
And,  but  I  loved  to  drive  the  deer, 
More  than  to  guide  the  labouring  steer, 
I  had  not  dwelt  an  outcast  here. 
Come,  good  old  Minstrel,  follow  me  ; 
Thy  Lord  and  Chieftain  shalt  thou  see." 

XII. 

Then,  from  a  rusted  iron  hook, 
A  bunch  of  ponderous  keys  he  took, 
Lighted  a  torch,  and  Allan  led 
Through  grated  arch  and  passage  dread. 
Portals  they  passed,  where,  deep  within, 
Spoke  prisoner's  moan,  and  fetters'  din  ; 
Through  rugged  vaults,  where,  loosely  stored, 
Lay  wheel,  and  axe,  and  headsman's  sword, 
And  many  a  hideous  engine  grim. 
For  wrenching  joint  and  crushing  limb, 
By  artists  form'd,  who  deem'd  it  shame 
And  sin  to  give  their  work  a  name. 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  201 


riiey  halted  at  a  low-brow'd  porch, 

And  Brent  to  Allan  gave  the  torch, 

While  bolt  and  chain  he  backward  roll'd, 

And  made  the  bar  unhasp  its  hold.    . 

They  enter'd:   'twas  a  prison-room 

Of  stern  security  and  gloom, 

Yet  not  a  dungeon ;  for  the  day 

Through  lofty  gratings  found  its  way, 

And  rude  and  antique  gclrniture 

Deck'd  the  sad  walls  and  oaken  floor ; 

Such  as  the  rugged  days  of  old 

Deem'd  fit  for  captive  noble's  hold. 

"  Here,"  said  De  Brent,  "  thou  mayst  remain 

Till  the  Leech  visit  him  again. 

Strict  is  his  charge,  the  warders  tell, 

To  tend  the  noble  prisoner  well." 

Retiring  then  the  bolt  he  drew, 

And  the  lock's  murmurs  growl'd  anew. 

Roused  at  the  sound,  from  lowly  bed 

A  captive  feebly  raised  his  head  ; 

The  wondering  Minstrel  look'd,  and  knew. 

Not  his  dear  lord,  but  Roderick  Dhu  ! 

For,  come  from  where  Clan-Alpine  fought, 

They,  erring,  deera'd  the  Chief  he  sought. 


J02  THE    LADYOF    THE    LAKE. 

XIII. 

As  the  tall  ship,  whose  lofty  prore 

Shall  never  stem  the  billows  more, 

Deserted  by  her  gallant  band. 

Amid  the  breakers  lies  astrand, — 

So,  on  his  couch,  lay  Roderick  Dhu! 

And  oft  his  fever'd  limbs  he  ^hrew 

In  toss  abrupt,  as  when  her  sides 

Lie  rocking  in  the  advancing  tides, 

That  shake  her  frame  with  ceaseless  beat, 

Yet  cannot  heave  her  from  her  seat ; — 

0,  how  unlike  her  course  at  sea, 

Or  his  free  step  on  hill  and  lea ! — 

Soon  as  the  Minstrel  he  could  scan, 

— "  What  of  thy  lady  ? — of  my  clan  ? — 

My  mother  ? — Douglas  ? — tell  me  all ! 

Have  they  been  ruin'd  in  my  fall  ? 

Ah,  yes  !  or  wherefore  art  thou  here  ? 

Yet  speak,  speak  boldly, — do  not  fear." 

(For  Allan,  who  his  mood  well  knew, 

Was  choked  with  grief  and  terror  too.) — 

"  Who  fought — who  fled? — Old  man,  be  brief  ;- 

Some  might — for  they  had  lost  their  Chief. 

Who  basely  live  ? — who  bravely  died?" — 

"0,  calm  thee.  Chief!"  the  Minstrel  cried, 

"  Ellen  is  safe !" — <<  For  that,  thank  Heaven !" 

*«  And  hopes  are  for  the  Douglas  given  ; — 


Haik.  Minstrel '  I  Kave  Keeurd  tkee  play. 
With.  ULcasuie  Lold  on  festal  dar 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  20a 


The  Lady  Margaret  too  is  well, 
And,  for  thy  clan, — on  field  or  fell, 
Has  never  harp  of  minstrel  told 
Of  combat  fought  so  true  and  bold. 
Thy  stately  Pine  is  yet  unbent, 
Though  many  a  goodly  bough  is  rent.' 


XIV. 

The  Chieftain  rear'd  his  form  on  high. 

And  fever's  lire  was  in  his  eye  ; 

But  ghastly,  pale,  and  livid  streaks 

Chequer'd  his  swarthy  brow  and  cheeks. 

— "  Hark,  Minstrel !  I  have  heard  thee  play, 

With  measure  bold,  on  festal  day, 

In  yon  lone  isle,  .  .  .  again  where  ne'er 

Shall  harper  play,  or  warrior  hear !  .  .  . 

That  stirring  air  that  peals  on  high, 

O'er  Dermid's  race  our  victory. 

Strike  it ! — and  then,  (for  well  thou  canst,) 

Free  from  thy  minstrel-spirit  glancea. 

Fling  me  the  picture  of  the  fight, 

When  met  my  clan  the  Saxon  might. 

I'll  listen,  till  my  fancy  hears 

The  clang  of  swords,  the  crash  of  spears  ! 

These  grates,  these  walls,  shall  vanish  then, 

For  the  fair  field  of  fighting  men. 


204  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

And  my  free  spirit  burst  away, 

As  if  it  soar'cl  from  battle-fray." 

The  trembling  Bard  with  awe  obey'd, 

Slow  on  the  harp  his  hand  he  laid  ; 

But  soon  remembrance  of  the  sight 

He  witness'd  from  the  mountain's  height. 

With  what  old  Bertram  told  at  night, 

Awaken'd  the  full  power  of  song, 

And  bore  him  in  career  along ; 

As  shallop  launched  on  river's  tide, 

That  slow  and  fearful  leaves  the  side, 

But  when  it  feels  the  middle  stream. 

Drives  downward  swift  as  lightning's  beam. 


XV. 

BATTLE  OF  BEAL'  AN  DUINE, 

«  The  Minstrel  came  once  more  to  view 
The  eastern  ridge  of  Ben-venue, 
For,  ere  he  parted,  he  would  say 
Farewell  to  lovely  Loch-Achray — 
Where  shall  he  find,  in  foreign  land, 
So  lone  a  lake,  so  sweet  a  strand ! — 
There  is  no  breeze  upon  the  fern, 

No  ripple  on  the  lake, 
Upon  her  eyrie  nods  the  erne, 
The  deer  has  sought  the  brake  ; 


THE    GUARD -ROOM.  203 


The  small  birds  will  not  sing  aloud, 

The  springing  trout  lies  still. 
So  darkly  glooms  yon  thunder-cloud, 
That  swathes,  as  with  a  purple  shroud, 

Benledi's  distant  hill. 
Is  it  the  thunder's  solemn  sound 
That  mutters  deep  and  dread, 
Or  eclioes  from  the  groaning  ground 

The  warrior's  measured  tread? 
Is  it  the  lightning's  quivering  glance 

That  on  the  thicket  streams, 
Or  do  they  flash  on  spear  and  lance 
The  sun's  retiring  beams? 
— I  see  the  dagger-crest  of  Mar, 
I  see  the  Moray's  silver  star, 
Wave  o'er  the  cloud  of  Saxon  war. 
That  up  the  lake  comes  winding  far ! 
To  hero  boune  for  battle-strife. 

Or  bard  of  martial  lay, 
'Twere  w^orth  ten  years  of  peaceful  life. 
One  glance  at  their  array ! 

XVI. 

"  Their  light-arm'd  archers  far  and  neai 
Survey'd  the  tangled  ground. 
Their  centre  ranks,  with  pike  and  spear, 
A  twiliofht  forest  frown'd  ; 


206  THE    LADYOF    THE    LAKE. 


Their  barbed  horsemen,  in  the  rear, 

The  stern  battalia  crown'd. 
No  cymbal  clash'd,  no  clarion  rang, 

Still  were  the  pipe  and  drum  ; 
Save  heavy  tread,  and  armour's  clang, 

The  sullen  march  was  dumb. 
There  breathed  no  wind  their  crests  lo  shake, 

Or  wave  their  flags  abroad  ; 
Scarce  the  frail  aspen  seem'd  to  quake, 

That  shadow'd  o'er  their  road. 
Their  vanward  scouts  no  tidings  bring, 

Can  rouse  no  lurking  foe, 
Nor  spy  a  trace  of  living  thing, 

Save  when  they  stirr'd  the  roe. 
The  host  moves  like  a  deep-sea  wave, 
Where  rise  no  rocks  its  pride  to  brave, 

High-swelling,  dark,  and  slow. 
The  lake  is  pass'd,  and  now  they  gain 
A  narrow  and  a  broken  plain, 
Before  the  Trosachs'  rugged  jaws  ; 
And  here  the  horse  and  spearmen  pause. 
While,  to  explore  the  dangerou^  o;len. 
Dive  through  the  pass  the  archer- lOi.  ^ 

XVII. 

At  once  there  rose  so  wild  a  yell 
Within  that  dark  and  narrow  dell, 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  207 

As  all  the  fiends,  from  heaven  that  fell, 

Had  peal'd  the  banner-cry  of  hell ! 
Forth  from  the  pass  in  tumult  driven. 
Like  chaff  before  the  wind  of  heaven, 

The  archery  appear : 
For  life!  for  life!  their  flight  they  ply — 
And  shriek,  and  shout,  and  battle-cry. 
And  plaids  and  bonnets  waving  high, 
And  broadswords  flashing  to  the  sky, 

Are  maddening  in  the  rear. 
Onward  they  drive,  in  dreadful  race, 
Pursuers  and  pursued  ; 

Before  that  tide  of  flight  and  chase. 

How  shall  it  keep  its  rooted  place, 
The  spearmen's  twilight  wood  ? 

— '  Down,  down,'  cried  Mar,  '  your  lances  down  ! 
Bear  back  both  friend  and  foe  !' 

Like  reeds  before  the  tempest's  frow^n, 

That  serried  grove  of  lances  brown 
At  once  lay  levell'd  low  ; 

And  closely  shouldering  side  to  side, 

The  bristling  ranks  the  onset  bide. — 

— 'We'll  quell  the  savage  mountaineer. 
As  their  Tinchel*  cows  the  game ! 

*  A  circle  of  sportsmen,  who,  by  surrounding  a  great  space,  and  gra- 
dually narrowing,  brought  immense  qua'ntities  of  deer  together,  whic> 
usually  made  desperate  efforts  to  break  through  the  Tinchel. 


208  THE    LADYOF   THE    LAKE. 

They  come  as  fleet  as  forest  deer, 
We'll  drive  them  back  as  tame.' 


XVIII. 

Bearing  before  them,  in  their  course, 
The  relics  of  the  archer  force, 
Like  wave  with  crest  of  sparkling-  foam. 
Right  onward  did  Clan- Alpine  come. 
Above  the  tide,  each  broadsword  bright 
Was  brandishing  like  beam  of  light, 

Each  targe  was  dark  below  ; 
And  with  the  ocean's  mighty  swing, 
When  heaving  to  the  tempest's  wing, 

They  hurl'd  them  on  the  foe. 
I  heard  the  lance's  shivering  crash, 
As  when  the  whirlwind  rends  the  ash; 
I  heard  the  broadsword's  deadly  clang,   , 
As  if  a  hundred  anvils  rang ! 
But  Moray  wheel'd  his  rearward  rank 
Of  horsemen  on  Clan-Alpine's  flank, — 

— '  My  banner-man  advance  ! 
I  see,'  he  cried,  <  their  column  shake.^ 
Now,  gallants !  for  your  ladies'  sake. 
Upon  them  with  the  lance  !' — 
The  horsemen  dash'd  among  the  rout, 
As  deer  break  through  the  broom  ; 


THE    GO  A  ill) -ROOM.  201 


Their  steeds  are  stout,  their  swords  are  out, 

They  soon  make  lightsome  room. 
Cian-Alpine's  best  are  backward  borne — 

Where,  where  was  Roderick  then  ! 
One  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn 

Were  worth  a  thousand  men. 
And  refluent  through  the  pass  of  fear 

The  battle's  tide  was  pour'd  ; 
Vanish'd  the  Saxon's  struggling  spear, 

Vanish'd  the  mountain  sword. 
A.S  Bracklinn's  chasm,  so  black  and  steep. 

Receives  her  roaring  linn, 
As  the  dark  caverns  of  the  deep 

Suck  the  wild  whirlpool  in, 
So  did  the  deep  and  darksome  pass 
Devour  the  battle's  mingled  mass  ; 
None  linger  now  upon  the  plain, 
Save  those  who  ne'er  shall  fig^ht  ag-airi: 


XIX. 

•  i  Now  westward  rolls  the  battle's  din, 
That  deep  and  doubling  pass  within. 
— Minstrel,  away!  the  work  of  fate 
Is  bearing  on  :  its  issue  w^ait. 
Where  the  rude  Trosachs'  dread  defile 
Opens  on  Katrine's  lake  and  isle, 


210       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.   ' 

Gray  Ben-venue  I  soon  repass'd, 
Loch-Katrine  lay  beneath  me  cast. 
The  sun  is  set ; — the  clouds  are  met, 

The  lowering  scowl  of  heaven 
An  inky  hue  of  livid  blue 
To  the  deep  lake  has  given ; 
Strange  gusts  of  wind  from  mountain  glen 
Swept  o'er  the  lake,  then  sunk  again. 
I  heeded  not  the  eddying  surge, 
Mine  eye  but  saw  the  Trosachs'  gorge, 
Mine  ear  but  heard  the  sullen  sound, 
Which  like  an  earthquake  shook  the  ground, 
And  spoke  the  stern  and  desperate  stril'e 
That  parts  not  but  with  parting  life. 
Seeming,  to  minstrel-ear,  to  toll 
The  dirge  of  many  a  passing  soul. 
Nearer  it  comes— the  dim-wood  glen 
The  martial  flood  disgorged  again. 

But  not  in  mingled  tide  ; 
The  plaided  warriors  of  the  North 
High  on  the  mountain  thunder  forth, 
And  overhang  its  side  ; 
While  by  the  lake  below  appears 
The  dark'ning  cloud  of  Saxon  spears 
At  weary  bay  each  snatter'd  band, 
Eyeing  their  foemen,  sternly  stana  ; 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  311 


Their  banners  stream  like  tatter'u  sail 
That  flings  its  fragments  to  the  gale, 
And  broken  arms  and  disarray 
Mark'd  the  fell  havoc  of  the  day. 


XX. 

"  Viewing  the  mountain's  ridge  askance, 
The  Saxons  stood  in  sullen  trance, 
Till  Moray  pointed  with  his  lance, 

And  cried — '  Behold  yon  isle  ! — 
See  !  none  are  left  to  guard  its  strand, 
But  women  weak  that  wring  the  hand : 
'Tis  there  of  yore  the  robber  band 

Their  booty  wont  to  pile  ; — 
My  purse,  with  bonnet-pieces  store, 
To  him  will  swim  a  bow-shot  o'er, 
And  loose  a  shallop  from  the  shore. 
Lightly  w^e'll  tame  the  war- w^olf  then. 
Lords  of  his  mate,  and  brood,  and  den.'-- 
Forth  from  the  ranks  a  spearman  sprung, 
On  earth  his  casque  and  corslet  rung. 

He  plunged  him  in  the  wave  : — 
All  saw  the  deed — the  purpose  knew. 
And  to  their  clamours  Ben-venue 

A  mingled  echo  gave  ; 
The  Saxons  shout,  their  mate  to  cheer. 


THE    LADY   OF   THE    LAKE. 

The  helpless  females  scream  for  fear, 

And  yells  for  rage  the  mountaineer. 

'Twas  then,  as  by  the  outcry  riven, 

Pour'd  down  at  once  the  lowering  heaven ; 

A  w-hirlwind  swept  Loch-Katrine's  breast, 

Her  billows  reared  their  snowy  crest. 

Well  for  the  swimmer  swell'd  they  high, 

To  mar  the  Highland  marksman's  eye  ; 

For  round  him  shower'd,  'mid  rain  and  hail. 

The  vengeful  arrows  of  the  Gael. — 

In  vain. — He  nears  the  isle — and  lo  ! 

His  hand  is  on  a  shallop's  bow. 

— Just  then  a  flash  of  lightning  came, 

It  tinged  the  waves  and  strand  v\'idr  flame  ;— 

I  mark'd  Duncraggan's  widow'd  dame. 

Behind  an  oak  I  saw  her  stand — 

A  naked  dirk  gleam'd  in  her  hand  : — 

It  darken'd, — but  amid  the  moan 

Of  waves  I  heard  a  dying  groan ; — 

Another  flash! — the  spearmen  floats 

A  weltering  corse  beside  the  boats, 

And  the  stern  Matron  o'er  him  stood, 

Her  hand  and  dagger  streaming  blood. 

XXI. 

<<  <  Revenge  !  revenge  !'  the  Saxons  cried ; 
The  Gaels'  exulting  shout  replied. 


THE    GUARD-ROOIn.  213 


Despite  the  elemental  rage, 

Again  they  hurried  to  engage  ; 

But,  ere  they  closed  in  desperate  fight, 

Bloody  with  spurring  came  a  knight, 

Sprung  from  his  horse,  and,  from  a  crag, 

"Waved   twixt  the  hosts  a  milkwhite  flag. 

Clarion  and  trumpet  by  his  side 

Rung  forth  a  truce-note  high  and  wide, 

While,  in  the  Monarch's  name,  afar, 

A  herald's  voice  forbade  the  war, 

For  Both  well's  lord,  and  Roderick  bold, 

Were  both,  he  said,  in  captive  hold." 

— But  here  the  lay  made  sudden  stand, 

The  harp  escaped  the  Minstrel's  hand  !^ 

Oft  had  he  stolen  a  glance,  to  spy 

How  Roderick  brook'd. his  minstrelsy? 

At  first,  the  Chieftain,  to  the  chime, 

Wiih  lifted  hand,  kept  feeble  time  ; 

That  motion  ceased, — yet  feeling  stronof 

Varied  his  look  as  changed  the  song ; 

At  length,  no  more  his  deafen'd  ear 

The  minstrel  melody  can  hear; 

His  face  grows  sharp, — his  hands  are  clench'd, 

As  if  some  pang  his  heart-strings  wrench'd  ; 

Set  are  his  teeth  ;  his  fading  eye 

Is  s'ernly  fix'd  on  vacancy: — 


314        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

Thus,  motionless,  and  moanless,  drew 
His  parting  breath,  stout  Roderick  Dhu  !- 
Old  Allan-Bane  look'd  on  aghast, 
While  grim  and  still  his  spirit  pass'd  ; 
But  when  he  saw  that  life  was  fled, 
He  pour'd  his  wailing  o'er  the  dead. 


XXII. 

LAMENT. 

"  And  art  thou  cold,  and  lowly  laid, 
Thy  foeman's  dread,  thy  people's  aid, 
Breadalbane's  boast,  Clan-Alpine's  shade! 
For  thee  shall  none  a  requiem  say  ? 
— For  thee, — who  loved  the  minstrel's  lay, 
For  thee,  of  Bothwell's  house  the  stay, 
The  shelter  of  her  exiled  line, 
E'en  in  this  prison-house  of  thine, 
I'll  v.-ail  for  Alpine's  honour'd  Pine  ! 

"  What  groans  shall  yonder  valleys  fill ! 
What  shrieks  of  grief  shall  rend  yon  hill ' 
What  tears  of  burning  rage  shall  thrill, 
WTien  mourns  thy  tribe  thy  battles  done, 
Thy  fall  before  the  race  was  won, 
Thy  sword  ungirt  ere  set  of  sun ! 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  215 


There  breathes  not  clansman  of  thy  line, 
But  would  have  given  his  life  for  thine — 
0  wo  for  Alpine's  honour'd  Pine ! 

« Sad  was  thy  lot  on  mortal  stage! — 
The  captive  thrush  may  brook  the  cage, 
The  prison'd  eagle  dies  for  rage. 
Brave  spirit,  do  not  scorn  my  strain ! 
And,  when  its  notes  awake  again, 
Even  she,  so  long  beloved  in  vain. 
Shall  with  my  harp  her  voice  combine, 
Acd  mix  her  wo  and  tears  with  mine, 
To  wail  Clan-Alpine's  honour'd  Pine." 

XXIII. 

Ellen,  the  while,  with  bursting  heart, 
Remain'd  in  lordly  bower  apart, 
Where  play'd,  with  many-colour'd  gleams, 
Through  storied  pane,  the  rising  beams. 
In  vain  on  gilded  roof  they  fall, 
And  lighten'd  up  a  tapestried  wall, 
And  for  her  use  a  menial  train 
A  rich  collation  spread  in  vain. 
The  banquet  proud,  the  chamber  gay, 
Scarce  drew  one  curious  glance  astray ; 
Or,  if  she  look'd,  'twas  but  to  say, 
With  better  omen  dawn'd  the  day 


216        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


In  that  lone  isle,  where  v/aved  on  high 

The  dun  deer's  hide  tor  canopy  ; 

Where  oft  her  noble  father  shared 

The  simple  meal  her  care  prepared, 

While  Liifra,  crouching  by  her  side, 

Her  station  claim'd  with  jealous  pride, 

And  Douglas,  bent  on  woodland  game. 

Spoke  of  the  chase  to  Malcolm  Graeme, 

Whose  answer,  oft  at  random  made, 

The  wandering  of  his  thoughts  betray'd. 

Those  who  such  simple  joys  have  known, 

Are  taught  to  prize  them  when  they're  gone. 

But  sudden,  see,  she  lifts  her  head  ! 

The  window  seeks  with  cautious  tread 

What  distant  music  has  the  power 

To  win  her  in  this  woful  hour  ! 

'Twas  from  a  turret  that  o'erhung 

Her  latticed  bower,  the  strain  was  sung. 

XXIV. 
LAY   OF    THE   IMPKISONED    HUXTSJIA.N 

•  '  My  hawk  is  tired  of  perch  and  hood, 
My  idle  greyhound  loathes  his  food, 
My  horse  is  weary  of  his  stall. 
And  I  am  sick  of  captive  thrall. 
I  wish  I  were  as  I  have  been, 
Hunting  the  hart  in  forest  green, 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  217 


With  bended  bow  and  bloodhound  free, 
For  that's  the  life  is  meet  for  nie. 

'  I  hate  to  learn  the  ebb  of  time, 
From  yon  dull  steeple's  drowsy  chime. 
Or  mark  it  as  the  sunbeams  crawl, 
Inch  after  inch,  along  the  wall. 
The  lark  was  wont  my  matins  ring, 
The  sable  rook  my  vespers  sing ; 
These  towers,  although  a  king's  they  be, 
Have  not  a  hall  of  joy  for  me. 

<'  No  more  at  dawning  morn  I  rise, 
And  sun  m^yself  in  Ellen's  eyes, 
Drive  the  fleet  deer  the  forest  through. 
And  homeward  wend  widi  evening  dew  : 
A  blithesome  welcome  blithely  meet, 
And  lay  my  trophies  at  her  feet, 
While  fled  the  eve  on  wing  of  glee, — 
That  life  is  lost  to  love  and  me '" 

XXV. 

The  heart-sick  lay  was  hardly  said, 
The  list'ner  had  not  turn'd  her  head. 
It  trickled  still,  the  starting  tear, 
When  light  a  footstep  struck  her  ear. 
And  Snowdoua's  graceful  Knight  was  near 


218  THE    LADY    OF    THE    LAKE. 

She  turn'd  the  hastier,  lest  agawi 
The  prisoner  should  renew  his  strain. 
»'  O  welcome,  brave  Fitz-James!"  she  said  ; 
•  '  How  may  an  almost  orphan  maid 

Pay  the  deep  debt" "  0  say  not  so  ' 

To  me  no  gratitude  you  owe. 

Not  mine,  alas!  the  bc^n  to  give, 

And  bid  thy  noble  father  live  ; 

I  can  but  be  thy  guide,  sweet  maid, 

With  Scotland's  King  thy  suit  to  aid. 

No  tyrant  he,  though  ire  and  pride 

May  lead  his  better  mood  aside. 

Come,  Ellen,  come! — 'tis  more  than  time, 

He  holds  his  court  at  morning  prime." 

With  beating  heart,  and  bosom  rung, 

As  to  a  brother's  arm  she  clung. 

Gently  he  dried  the  falling  tear, 

And  gently  whisper'd  hope  and  cheer ; 

Her  faltering  steps  half  led,  half  stay'd, 

Through  gallery  fair  and  high  arcade, 

Till,  at  his  touch,  its  wings  of  pride 

A  portal  arch  unfolded  wdde. 

XXVI. 

Within  'twas  brilliant  all  and  light, 
A  throng?  ng  scene  of  figures  bright ; 
It  glow'd  on  Ellen's  dazzled  sight. 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  219 

As  when  the  setting  sun  has  given 
Ten  thousand  hues  to  summer  even, 
And,  from  their  tissue,  fancy  frames 
Aerial  knights  and  fairy  dames. 
Still  by  Fitz-James  her  footing  stay'd ; 
A  few  faint  steps  she  forward  made, 
Then  slow  her  drooping  head  she  raised, 
And  fearful  round  the  presence  gazed ; 
For  him  she  sought,  who  own'd  this  state, 
The  dreaded  prince  whose  will  was  fate ! — 
She  gazed  on  many  a  princely  port. 
Might  well  have  ruled  a  royal  court ; 
On  many  a  splendid  garb  she  gazed, — 
Then  turn'd  bewilder'd  and  amazed, 
For  all  stood  bare  ;  and,  in  the  room, 
Fitz-James  alone  wore  cap  and  plume. 
To  him  each  lady's  look  was  lent ; 
On  him  each  courtier's  eye  was  bent ; 
Midst  furs  and  silks  and  jewels  sheen. 
He  stood  in  simple  Lincoln  green, 
The  centre  of  the  glittering  ring, — 
And  Snowdoun's  Knight  is  Scotland's  Kin» ' 


XXVII. 

As  wreath  of  snow,  on  mountain  breast, 
Slides  from  the  rock  that  gave  it  rest, 


220       THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


Poor  Ellen  glided  from  her  stay, 

And  at  the  Monarch's  feet  she  lay  ; 

No  word  her  choking  voice  commands, — 

She  show'd  the  ring — she  clasp'd  her  hands. 

0  !  not  a  moment  could  he  brock. 

The  generous  prince,  that  suppliant  look! 

Gently  ne  raised  her,  and  the  -while, 

Check'd  with  a  glance  the  circle's  smile  ; 

Graceful,  but  grave,  her  brow  he  kiss'd, 

And  bade  her  terrors  be  dismiss'd  : — 

"Yes,  Fair  ;  the  wandering  poor  Fitz-James 

The  fealty  of  Scotland  claims. 

To  him  thy  woes,  thy  wishes,  bring ; 

He  will  redeem  his  signet  ring. 

Ask  nought  for  Douglas; — yestereven, 

His  prince  and  he  have  much  forgiven : 

Wrong  hath  he  had  fron\  slanderous  tongue, 

I,  from  his  rebel  kinsmen,  v.-rong. 

We  would  not  to  the  vulgar  crowd 

Yield  what  they  craved  with  clamour  loud  ; 

Calmly  we  heard  and  judged  his  cause. 

Our  council  aided,  and  our  laws. 

I  staunch'd  thy  father's  death-feud  stern. 

With  stout  De  Vaux  and  gray  Glencairne ; 

And  Bothwell's  Lord  henceforth  we  own 

The  friend  and  bulwark  of  our  Throne. 


THE    GUARD-ROOM. 


But  lovely  infidel,  how  now? 
What  clouds  thy  misbelieving  brow  ? 
Lord  James  of  Douglas,  lend  thine  aid ; 
Thou  must  confirm  this  doubting  maid." 

XXVIII. 

Then  forth  the  noble  Douglas  sprung, 

And  on  his  neck  his  daughter  hung. 

The  Monarch  drank,  that  happy  hour, 

The  sweetest,  holiest  draught  of  Power, — 

When  it  can  say,  with  godlike  voice. 

Arise,  sad  Virtue,  and  rejoice  ! 

Yet  would  not  James  the  general  eye 

On  nature's  raptures  long  should  pry ; 

He  stepp'd  between — "Nay,  Douglas,  nay. 

Steal  not  my  proselyte  away ! 

The  riddle  'tis  my  right  to  read, 

That  brought  this  happy  chance  to  speed 

Yes,  Ellen,  when  disguised  I  stray 

In  life's  more  low  but  happier  way, 

'Tis  under  name  which  veils  my  power, 

Nor  falsely  veils — for  Stirling's  tower, 

Of  yore  the  name  of  Snowdoun  claims. 

And  Normans  call  me  James  Fitz-James 

Thus  w-atch  I  o'er  insulted  laws, 

Thus  learn  to  right  the  injured  cause.'' 


222  THE    LADY    OFTHE    LAKE. 

Then,  in  a  tone  apart  and  low, 

— "  Ah,  little  trait'ress !  none  must  know 

What  idle  dream,  what  lighter  thought, 

What  vanity  full  dearly  bought, 

Join'd  to  thine  eye's  dark  witchcraft,  drew 

My  spellbound  steps  to  Ben-venue, 

In  dangerous  hour,  and  all  but  gave 

Thy  Monarch's  life  to  mountain  glaive  !" 

Aloud  he  spoke — "  Thou  still  dost  hold 

That  little  talisman  of  gold. 

Pledge  of  my  faith,  Fitz-James's  ring — 

What  seeks  fair  Ellen  of  the  King !" 

XXIX. 

Full  well  the  conscious  maiden  guess'd, 

He  probed  the  weakness  of  her  breast ; 

But,  with  that  consciousness,  there  came 

A  lightening  of  her  fears  for  Graeme, 

And  more  she  deem'd  the  Monarch's  ire 

Kindled  'gainst  him,  who,  for  her  sire. 

Rebellious  broadsword  boldly  drew  ; 

And  to  her  generous  feeling  true. 

She  craved  the  grace  of  Roderick  Dhu. 

"■  Forbear  thy  suit ; — the  King  of  kings 

Alone  can  stay  life's  parting  wings. 

I  know  his  heart,  I  know  his  hand, 

Have  shared  his  cheer,  and  proved  his  brand 


THE    GUARD -ROOM.  223 


My  fairest  earldom  would  I  give 
To  bid  Clan-Alpine's  Chieftain  live! — 
Hast  thou  no  other  boon  to  crave  ? 
No  other  captive  friend  to  save?" 
Blushing,  she  turn'd  her  from  the  King, 
And  to  the  Douglas  gave  the  ring, 
Ao  if  she  wish'd  her  sire  to  speak 
The  suit  that  stain'd  her  glowing  cheek. — 
"Nay,  then,  my  pledge  has  lost  its  force, 
And  stubborn  justice  holds  her  course. 
Malcolm,  come  forth!" — And,  at  the  word, 
Down  kneel'd  the  Gramme  to  Scotland's  Lord. 
"  For  thee,  rash  youth,  no  suppliant  sues, 
From  thee  may  Vengeance  claim  her  dues, 
Who,  nurtured  underneath  our  smile. 
Hast  paid  our  care  by  treahcerous  wile,  >  . 
And  sought,  amid  thy  faithful  clan, 
A  refuge  for  an  outlaw'd  man. 
Dishonouring  thus  thy  loyal  name. 
Fetters  and  warder  for  the  Grseme  !" — 
His  chain  of  gold  the  King  unstrung, 
The  links  o'er  Malcolm's  neck  he  flung, 
Then  gently  drew  the  glittering  band, 
And  laid  the  clasp  on  Ellen's  hand. 


>24        THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 


Harp  of  the  North,  farewell !  The  hills  grow  dark, 

On  purple  peaks  a  deeper  shade  descending  ; 
In  twilight  copse  the  glow-worm  lights  her  spark, 

The  deer,  half-seen,  are  to  the  covert  wending. 
Resume  thy  wizard  elm  !  the  fountain  lending, 

And  the  wild  breeze,  thy  wilder  minstrelsy  ; 
Thy  numbers  sweet  with  Nature's  vespers  blending. 

With  distant  echo  from  the  fold  and  lea, 
And  herdboy's  evening  pipe,  and  hum  of  housing  bee 

Yet,  once  again,  farewell,  thou  Minstrel  Harp ! 

Yet,  once  again,  forgive  my  feeble  sway, 
And  little  reck  I  of  the  censure  sharp 

May  idly  cavil  at  an  idle  lay. 
Much  have  I  owed  thy  strains  on  life's  long  way. 

Through  secret  woes  the  world  has  never  known. 
When  on  the  weary  night  dawn'd  w^earier  day. 

And  bitterer  was  the  grief  devour'd  alone. 
That  I  o'erlive  such  woes,  Enchantress  !  is  thine  own. 

Hark !  as  my  lingering  footsteps  slow  retire. 
Some  Spirit  of  the  Air  has  waked  thy  string ! 


THE    GUARD-ROOM.  225 


'Tis  now  a  Seraph  Vjokl,  with  touch  of  fire, 
'Tis  now  the  brush  of  Fairy's  frolic  wing. 

Receding  now,  the  dying  numbers  ring 
Fainter  and  fainter  down  the  rugged  dell, 

And  now  the  mountain  breezes  scarcely  bring 
A  wandering  witch-note  of  the  distant  spell — 

And  now.  'tis  silent  all  ! — Enchantress,  fare  thee  well ! 


BMO  OF  CANTO  SIXTH. 


1 


NOTES. 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   FIRST. 


NOTE  I. 


The  heights  of  Uam-vcir. 

St.  iv.  p.  17. 

Ua-var,  as  the  name  is  pronounced,  or  more  pioperly  Uuigh- 
'HOT,  is  a  mountain  to  the  northeast  of  the  village  of  Callender 
n  Menteith,  deriving  its  name,  which  signifies  the  great  den,  or 
cavern;  from  a  sort  of  retreat  among  the  rocks  on  the  south  side, 
said,  hy  tradition,  to  have  been  the  abode  of  a  giant.  In  latter 
times  it  was  the  refuge  of  robbers  and  banditti,  who  have  been 
only  extirpated  within  these  forty  or  fifty  years.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, this  stronghold  is  not  a  cave,  as  the  name  would  imply, 
but  a  sort  of  small  enclosure,  or  recess,  surrounded  with  large 
rocks,  and  open  above  head.  It  may  have  been  originally 
designed  as  a  toil  for  deer,  who  might  get  in  from  the  outside, 
but  would  find  it  difficult  to  return.  This  opinion  prevails  among 
the  old  sportsmen  and  deer-stalkers  in  the  neighbourhood. 


a30  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


NOTE  IT. 

Two  dogs  of  black  St.  Hubert's  breed. 

St.  vii.  p.  19. 

"  The  hounds  which  we  call  Saint  Hubert's  hounds  are  com- 
monly all  blacke,  yet  neuertheless,  their  race  is  so  mingled  at 
these  days,  that  we  find  them  of  all  colours.  These  are  the 
hounds  which  the  abbots  of  St.  Hubert  haue  always  kept  some 
of  their  race  or  kind,  in  honour  or  remembrance  of  the  saint. 
which  was  a  hunter  with  S.  Eustace.  Whereupon  we  may 
conceiue  that  (by  the  grace  of  God)  all  good  huntsmen  shall 
follow  them  into  paradise.  To  returne  vnto  my  former  purpose, 
this  kind  of  dogges  hath  beene  dispersed  thorough  the  countries 
of  Henault,  Lorayne,  Flaunders,  and  Burgoyne.  They  are 
mightj'  of  body,  neuertheless  their  legges  are  low  and  short., 
likewise  they  are  not  swift,  although  they  be  very  good  of  scent, 
hunting  chaces  which  are  farre  straggled,  fearing  neither  water 
nor  cold,  and  doe  more  couet  the  chaces  that  smell,  as  foxes, 
bore,  and  such  like,  than  other,  because  they  find  themselues 
neither  of  swiftness  nor  courage  to  hunt  and  kill  the  chaces  that 
are  lighter  and  swifter.  The  bloodhounds  of  this  col^^ur  prooue 
good,  especially  those  that  are  cole-blacke,  but  I  made  no  great 
account  to  breede  on  them,  or  to  keepe  the  kind,  and  yet  I  found 
'I  booke  which  a  hunter  did  dedicate  to  a  pnnce  of  Lorayne, 
which  seemed  to  loue  hunting  much,  wherein  was  a  blason  which 
the  same  hunter  gaue  to  his  bloodhound,  called  Sou 3-llard,  which 
u-as  white  : 

My  name  came  first  from  hoi}'  Hubert's  race, 
Souyllard  my  sire,  a  hound  of  singular  grace. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  231 


Whereupon  we  may  presume  that  some  of  the  kind  prooue  white 
sometimes,  but  they  are  not  of  the  kind  of  the  Greffiers  or  Bouxes, 
which  we  haue  at  these  dayes." —  The  noble  art  of  Venerie  or 
Hunting,  translated  and  collected  for  the  use  of  all  Noblemen 
and  Gentlemen, — Lond.  1611,  4to,  p.  15. 


NOTE  III. 

For  the  deafh-woimd  and  death-halloo, 
Muster\l  his  breath,  his  ivhinyard  dreiv. 

St.  viii.  p.  19. 

When  the  stag  turned  to  bay,  the  ancient  hunter  had  the 
pfrilous  task  of  going  in  upon,  and  kilhng  or  disabhng  the  des- 
perate animal.  At  all  times,  the  task  was  dangerous,  and  to  be 
adventured  upon  wisely  and  warily,  either  by  getting  behind  the 
slag  while  he  was  gazing  on  the  hounds,  or  by  watching  an 
Opportunity  to  gallop  roundly  in  upon  him,  and  kill  him  with  the 
sword.  See  many  directions  to  this  purpose  in  the  Booke  of 
Hunting,  chap.  41.  Wilson,  the  historian,  has  recorded  a  provi- 
dential escape  which  befell  him  in  this  hazardous  sport,  while  a 
youth  and  follower  of  the  Earl  of  Essex. 

"  Sir  Peter  Lee,  of  Lime,  in  Cheshire,  invited  my  lord  one 
summer  to  hunt  the  stagg.  And  having  a  great  stagg  in  chase, 
and  many  gentlemen  in  the  pursuit,  the  stagg  took  soyle.  And 
divers,  whereof  I  was  one,  alighted,  and  stood  with  swords 
drawne,  to  have  a  cut  at  him,  at  his  coming  out  of  the  water. 
The  staggs  there  being  wonderfully  fierce  and  dangerous,  made 
us  youths  more  eager  to  be  at  him.  But  he  escaped  us  all.  And 
it  was  ray  misfortune  to  be  hindered  of  my  coming  nere  hun,  ihe 


232  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


way  being  sliperie,  by  a  falle  ;  which  gave  occasion  to  some,  who 
did  not  know  mee,  to  speak  as  if  I  had  falne  for  feare.  Which 
being  told  mee,  I  left  the  slagg,  and  followed  the  gentleman  who 
[first]  spake  it.  But  I  found  him  of  that  cold  temper,  that  it 
seems  his  words  made  an  escape  from  him  ;  as  by  his  denial  and 
repentance  it  appeared.  But  this  made  mee  more  violent  in  pur- 
suit of  the  slagg,  to  recover  my  reputation.  And  I  happened  to 
be  the  only  horseman  in,  when  the  dogs  sett  him  up  at  bay;  and 
approaching  near  him  on  horsebacke,  he  broke  through  the  dogs, 
and  run  at  mee,  and  tore  my  horse's  side  with  his  homes,  close 
by  my  thigh.  Then  I  quitted  my  horse,  and  grew  more  cunning 
(for  the  dogs  had  sette  him  up  againe),  stealing  behind  him  with 
my  sword,  and  cut  his  hamstrings ;  and  then  got  upon  his  back, 
and  cut  his  throate  ;  which,  as  I  was  doing,  the  company  came 
in,  and  blamed  my  rashness  for  running  such  a  hazard." — 
Peck's  Desiderata  Curiosa,  ii.  464. 


NOTE  IV. 

No  -pathway  meets  the  tvanderer^s  ken. 

St.  xiv.  p.  24. 

Until  the  present  road  was  made  through  this  romantic  pass, 
there  Avas  no  mode  of  issuing  out  of  the  defile,  called  the  Trosachs, 
sxcopting  by  a  sort  of  ladder,  composed  of  the  branches  and  roots 
of  the  trees. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  233 


NOTE  V. 

To  meet  with  Highland  plunderers  here. 
Were  loorse  than  loss  of  steed  or  deer. 

St.  xvi.  p.  27. 

'I'he  clans  who  inhabited  the  romantic  regions  in  the  neigh« 
bourhood  of  Loch-Katrine,  were,  even  until  a  late  period,  much 
addicted  to  predatory  excursions  upon  their  Lowland  neighbours. 

"  In  former  times,  those  parts  of  this  district  which  are 
situated  beyond  the  Grampian  range,  were  rendered  almost  inac- 
cessible, by  strong  barriers  of  rocks,  and  mountains,  and  lakes. 
It  was  a  border  country,  and  though  on  the  very  verge  of  the  low 
country,  it  was  almost  totally  sequestered  from  the  world,  and,  as 
it  were,  insulated  with  respect  to  society. 

"  'Tis  well  known,  that,  in  the  Highlands,  it  was,  in  former 
times,  accounted  not  only  lawful,  but  honourable,  among  hostile 
tribes,  to  commit  depredations  on  one  another ;  and  these  habits 
of  the  age  were  perhaps  strengthened  in  this  district,  by  the  cir- 
cumstances which  have  been  mentioned.  It  bordered  on  a 
country,  the  inhabitants  of  which,  while  they  were  richer,  were 
less  warlike  than  they,  and  widely  differenced  by  language  and 
manners." — Graham's  Sketches  of  Scenery  in  Perthshire.  Edin. 
1806,  p.  97. 

The  reader  will  therefore  be  pleased  to  remember  that  thu 
6cene  of  this  poem  is  laid  in  a  time, 

When  tooming  faulds,  or  sweeping  of  a  glen. 
Had  still  been  held  the  deed  of  gallant  men. 


234  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


NOTE  VI. 

A  gray-hair' d  sire,  whose  eye  intent 
Was  on  the  vision' d future  bent. 

St.  xxiii.  p   35. 

If  force  of  evidence  could  authorize  us  to  believe  facts  incon- 
sistent with  the  general  laws  of  nature,  enough  might  be  produced 
in  favour  of  the  existence  of  the  second-sight.  It  is  called  in 
Gaelic  Taishilaraugh,  from  Taish,  an  unreal  or  shadowy  ap- 
pearance ;  and  those  possessed  of  the  faculty  are  called  Taisha- 
trin,  which  may  be  aptly  translated  visionaries.  Martin,  a  steady 
believer  in  the  second-sight,  gives  the  following  account  of  it : 

"  The  second-sight  is  a  singular  faculty  of  seeing  an  otherwise 
invisible  object,  without  any  previous  means  used  by  the  person 
that  uses  it  for  that  end ;  the  vision  makes  such  a  lively  impres- 
sion upon  the  seers,  that  they  neither  see,  nor  think  of  any  thing 
else,  except  the  vision,  as  long  as  it  continues;  and  then  they 
appear  pensive  or  jovial,  according  to  the  object  which  was 
represented  to  them. 

"At  the  sight  of  a  vision,  the  eyelids  of  the  person  are  erected, 
and  the  eyes  continue  staring  until  the  object  vanish.  This  is 
obvious  to  others  who  are  by,  when  the  persons  happen  to  see  a 
vision,  and  occurred  more  than  once  to  my  own  observation, 
and  to  others  that  were  with  me. 

"There  is  one  in  Skie,  of  whom  his  acquaintance  observed, 
that  when  he  sees  a  vision,  the  inner  part  of  his  eyelids  turns  so 
far  upwards,  that  after  the  object  disappears  he  must  draw  them 
down  with  his  fingers,  and  sometimes  employ  others  to  dra\i 
»hem  down,  which  he  finds  to  be  the  mjch  easier  way. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  335 


'•This  faculty  of  the  second-sight  does  not  lineally  descend 
m  a  fiiiTiily,  as  some  imagine,  for  I  know  several  parents  who 
are  endowed  with  it,  but  their  children  not,  and  vice  versa'; 
.neither  is  it  acquired  by  any  previous  compact.  And,  after  a 
strict  inquiry,  I  could  never  learn  that  this  faculty  was  com 
municable  an}''  way  whatsoever. 

"The  seer  knows  neither  the  object,  time,  nor  place  of  a 
vision,  before  it  appears  ;  and  the  same  object  is  often  seen  by 
different  persons,  living  at  a  considerable  distance  from  one 
another.  The  true  way  of  judging  as  to  the  time  and  circum- 
stance of  an  object,  is  by  observation  ;  for  several  persons  of 
judgment,  without  this  faculty,  are  more  capable  to  judge  of  the 
design  of  a  vision,  than  a  novice  that  is  a  seer.  If  an  object 
appear  in  the  day  or  night,  it  will  come  to  pass  sooner  or  later 
accordingly. 

"If  an  object  is  seen  early  in  the  morning  (which  is  not 
frequent),  it  will  be  accomplished  in  a  few  hours  afterwards. 
If  at  noon,  it  will  commonly  be  accomplished  that  very  day. 
If  in  the  evening,  perhaps  that  night ;  if  after  candles  be  lighted, 
it  will  be  accomplished  that  night :  the  later  always  in  accom- 
plishment, by  weeks,  months,  and  sometimes  years,  according 
to  the  time  of  night  the  vision  is  seen. 

"  When  a  shroud  is  perceived  about  one,  it  is  a  sure  prognos, 
tic  of  death  :  the  time  is  judged  according  to  the  height  of  it 
about  the  person  ;  for  if  it  is  seen  above  the  middle,  death  is  no! 
to  be  expected  for  the  space  of  a  year,  and  perhaps  some  months 
longer ;  and  as  it  is  frequently  seen  to  ascend  higher  towards 
the  head,  death  is  concluded  to  be  at  hand  within  a  few  days, 
if  not  hours,  as  daily  experience  confirms.  Examples  of  this 
kind  were  shown  me,  when  the  persons  of  whom  the  oDserva 
(ions  were  then  made  enjoyed  perfect  health. 


236  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


''  One  instance  was  lately  foretold  by  a  seer  that  Avas  a 
novice,  concerning  the  death  of  one  of  my  acquaintance  ;  this 
Avas  communicated  to  a  few  only,  and  with  great  confidence  :  I, 
being  one  of  the  number,  did  not  in  the  least  regard  it,  until 
the  death  of  the  person,  about  the  time  foretold,  did  confirm  me 
of  the  certainty  of  the  prediction.  The  novice  mentioned  above 
is  now  a  skilful  seer,  as  appears  from  many  late  instances :  ho 
lives  in  the  parish  of  St,  Mary's,  the  most  northern  in  Skie. 

"  If  a  woman  is  seen  standing  at  a  man's  left  hand,  it  is  a 
presage  that  she  will  be  his  wife,  whether  they  be  married  to 
others,  or  unmarried,  at  the  time  of  the  apparition. 

"If  two  or  three  women  are  seen  at  once  near  a  man's  left 
hand,  she  that  is  next  him  will  undoubtedly  be  his  wife  first,  and 
so  on,  whether  all  three,  or  the  man,  be  single  or  married  at 
the  time  of  the  vision  or  not :  of  which  there  are  several  late 
instances  among  those  of  my  acquaintance.  It  is  an  ordinary 
thing  for  them  to  see  a  man  that  is  to  come  to  the  house  shortly 
after:  and  if  he  is  not  of  the  seer's  acquaintance,  5'et  he  gives 
such  a  lively  description  of  his  stature,  complexion,  habit,  &c.,  that 
upon  his  arrival  he  answers  the  character  given  him  in  all  respects. 

"  If  the  person  so  appearing  be  one  of  the  seer's  acquaintance, 
he  will  tell  his  name,  as  well  as  other  particulars  ;  and  he  can  tell 
by  his  countenance  whether  he  comes  in  a  good  or  bad  humour. 

"  I  have  been  seen  thus  myself  by  seers  of  both  sexes,  at  some 
hundred  miles'  distance ;  some  that  saw  me  in  this  manner  had 
never  seen  me  personally,  and  it  happened  according  to  their 
visions,  without  any  previous  design  of  mine  to  go  to  those  places, 
my  coming  there  being  purely  accidental. 

"  It  is  ordinary  with  them  to  see  houses,  gardens,  and  trees  in 
places  void  of  all  three  ;  and  this  in  progress  of  time  uses  to  be 
accomplished  •  as  at  Mogshot,  in  the  Isle  of  Skie,  where  there 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  237 


were  but  a  few  sorry  cow-houses,  thatched  with  straw,  yet  in  a 
very  few  years  after,  the  vision,  which  appeared  often,  was  accom- 
plished, by  the  building  of  several  good  houses  on  the  very  spot 
represented  by  the  seers,  and  by  the  planting  of  orchards  there. 

"  To  see  a  spark  of  fire  fall  upon  one's  arm  or  breast  is  a  fore- 
runner of  a  dead  child  to  be  seen  in  the  arms  of  those  persons  ;  of 
which  there  are  several  fresh  instances. 

"  To  see  a  seat  empty  at  the  time  of  one's  sitting  in  it,  is  a  pre- 
sage of  that  person's  death  soon  after. 

"  When  a  novice,  or  one  that  has  lately  obtained  the  second- 
sight,  sees  a  vision  in  the  night-time  without  doors,  and  comes 
near  a  fire,  he  presently  falls  into  a  swoon. 

"Some  find  themselves  as  it  were  in  a  crowd  of  people,  having 
a  corpse  which  they  carry  along  with  them  ;  and  after  such  visions 
the  seers  come  in  sweating,  and  describe  the  people  that  appeared  : 
if  there  be  any  of  their  acquaintance  among  'em,  they  give  an 
account  of  their  names,  as  also  of  the  bearers,  but  they  know 
nothing  concerning  the  corpse. 

"All  those  who  have  the  second-sight  do  not  always  see  these 
visions  at  once,  though  they  be  together  at  the  time.  But  if  one 
who  has  this  faculty  designedly  touch  his  fellow-seer  at  the  instant 
of  a  vision's  appearing,  then  the  second  sees  it  as  well  as  the  first ; 
and  this  is  sometimes  discerned  by  those  that  are  near  them  on 
such  occasions," — Martin's  Description  of  the  Western  Islands, 
1710,  8vo,  p.  300,  et  seq. 

To  these  particulars  innumerable  examples  might  be  added,  all 
attested  by  grave  and  credible  authors.  But,  in  despite  of  evidence, 
which  neither  Bacon,  Boyle,  nor  Johnson,  were  able  to  resist,  me 
Taisch,  with  all  its  visionary  properties,  seems  to  be  now  univer- 
sally abandoned  to  the  use  of  poetry.  The  exquisitely  beautiful 
po'MTi  of  Lochiel  will  at  once  occur  to  the  recollection  of  every  reader 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


NOTE  VII. 

Here,  for  retreat  in  dangerous  hour, 
Some  chief  had  framed  a  rustic  boiver 

St.  XXV.  p.  34. 

The  Celtic  chieftains,  whose  Hves  were  continually  exposed  to 
peril,  had  usually,  in  the  most  retired  spot  of  their  domains,  some 
place  of  retreat  for  the  hour  of  necessity,  which,  as  circumstances 
would  admit,  was  a  tower,  a  cavern,  or  a  rustic  hut,  in  a  strong 
and  secluded  situation.  One  of  these  last  gave  refuge  to  the  un- 
fortunate Charles  Edward,  in  his  perilous  wanderings  after  the 
battle  of  Culloden. 

"  It  was  situated  in  the  face  of  a  very  rough,  high,  and  rocky 
mountain,  called  Letternilichk,  still  a  part  of  Benalder,  full  of  great 
stones  and  crevices,  and  some  scattered  wood  interspersed.  The 
habitation  called  the  Cage,  in  the  face  of  that  mountain,  was  within 
a  small  thick  bush  of  wood.  There  were  first  some  rows  of  trees 
laid  down,  in  order  to  level  a  floor  for  a  habitation  ;  and  as  the 
place  v/as  steep,  this  raised  the  lower  side  to  an  equal  height  with 
the  other ;  and  these  trees,  in  the  way  of  joists  or  planks,  were 
levelled  with  earth  and  gravel.  There  were  betwixt  the  trees, 
gro"'ing  naturally  on  their  own  roots,  some  stakes  fixed  in  the 
earih,  which,  with  the  trees,  were  interwoven  with  ropes,  made 
of  heath  and  birch  twigs,  up  to  the  top  of  the  Cage,  it  being  a 
round  or  rather  oval  shape  ;  and  the  whole  thatched  and  covered 
over  with  fog.  The  whole  fabric  hung,  as  it  were,  by  a  large  tree, 
which  reclined  from  the  one  end,  all  along  the  roof,  to  the  other, 
and  which  gave  it  the  name  of  the  Cage  ;  and  by  chance  there 
happened  to  be  two  stones  at  a  small  distance  from  one  another,  in 
Jie  side  next  the  precipice,  resembling  the  pillars  of  a  chimney, 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    IIRST.  239 


where  the  fire  was  placed.  The  smoke  had  its  vent  out  here,  all 
along  the  fall  of  the  rock,  which  was  so  much  of  the  same  colour, 
that  one  could  discover  no  difference  in  the  clearest  day." — Home's 
History  of  the  Rebellion,  Lond.  1802,  4to,  p.  381. 


NOTE  VIII. 

My  sire''s  tall  form  might  grace  the  part 
Gf  Ferragus,  or  Aseabart. 

St.  xxviii.  p.  37. 

These  two  sons  of  Anak  flourished  in  romantic  fable.  The  first 
is  well  known  to  the  admirers  of  Ariosto,  by  the  name  of  Ferran. 
He  was  an  antagonist  of  Orlando,  and  was  at  length  slain  by  hmi 
in  single  combat.  There  is  a  romance  in  the  Auchinleck  MS.,  in 
which  Ferragus  is  thus  described : 

"  On  a  day  come  tiding 
Unto  Charls  the  King, 

Al  of  a  doughti  knight 
Was  comen  to  Navers, 
Stout  he  was  and  fers, 

Veruagu  he  hight. 
Of  Babiloun  the  soudan 
Thider  him  sende  gan. 

With  King  Charls  to  fight. 
So  hard  he  was  to-fond^ 
That  no  dint  of  brond 

No  greued  him,  a  phght. 

'  Found,  proved. 


340  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


"  He  hadde  twenti  men  strenglhe, 
And  forti  fet  of  lengthe, 

Thilke  painim  hede,^ 
And  four  feet  in  the  face, 
Y-meten^  in  the  place, 

And  fiften  in  brede.^ 
His  nose  was  a  fol  and  more  ; 
His  brow,  as  brestles  wore  ;* 

He  that  it  seighe  it  sede, 
He  loked  lotheliche 
And  was  swart^  as  any  piche 

Of  him  men  might  adrede." 
Romance  of  Charlemagne,  i.  461-484.  .^uchinleckMS.,{o\.2(io. 

Ascapart,  or  Ascabart,  makes  a  very  material  figure  in  the  His- 
tory of  Be  vis  of  Hampton,  by  whom  he  was  conquered. —  See 
Auchinleck  MS.,  fol.  189.  His  effigies  may  be  seen  guarding 
one  side  of  a  gate  at  Southampton,  while  the  other  is  occupied  by 
Sir  Bevis  himself.  The  dimensions  of  Ascapart  were  little  inferior 
to  those  of  Ferragus,  if  the  following  description  be  correct : 

"  They  metten  with  a  geaunt. 
With  a  lotheliche  semblaunt. 
He  was  wonderliche  strong, 
Rome^  thretti  fote  long. 
His  herd  was  hot  gret  and  rowe  ;'' 
A  space  of  a  fot  between  is^  browe  ; 


Rough. 
'His. 


>Had. 

<Were. 

*  Measured. 

6  Black. 

'Breadth. 

6  Fully. 

NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  241 


His  clob  was,  to  yeue^  a  strok, 
A  lite  bodi  of  aa  oak.' 
Beues  hadde  of  him  wonder  gret, 
And  askede  him  what  a  het," 
And  3'af-*  men  of  his  contra 
Were  ase  meche^  ase  was  he. 

Me  name,'  a  sede,"  '  is  Ascopard, 
Garci  me  sent  hiderward, 
For  to  bring  this  quenc  ayen, 
And  the  Beues  her  of-slen.'' 
Icham  Garci  is^  champioun, 
And  was  i-driue  out  of  me^  toun 
Al  for  that  icJi  was  so  h'te.*° 
Eueri  man  me  wolde  smite, 
Ich  was  so  lite  and  so  merrugh,*' 
Eueri  man  me  clepede  dvverugh.^- 
And  now  icham  in  this  londe, 
I  wax  mor'^  ich  understonde, 
And  strangere  than  other  tene  ;" 
And  that  schel  on  us  be  sene.'  " 
Sir  Bevis  of  Hampton,  i.  2513.     Auchinlea  MS.,  fol.  189. 


'  Give.  ^  He  said.  "  Lean. 

-  The  stem  of  a  little  oak  tree.  "^  Slay.  '"Dwarf. 

^  He  hight,  was  called.  ^  His.  '^  Greater,  taller 

^If.  9  My.  "Ten. 

=  Great.  "Little. 


242  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


NOTE  IX 

Though  all  unasked  his  birth  and  name. 

St.  xxix.  p.  38. 

The  Highlanders,  who  carried  hospitality  to  a  punctilious  excess, 
are  said  to  have  considered  it  as  churlish,  to  ask  a  stranger  his 
name  or  lineage,  before  he  had  taken  refreshment.  Feuds  were 
so  frequent  among  them,  that  a  contrary  rule  would,  in  many  cases, 
have  produced  the  discovery  of  some  circumstance  which  might 
have  excluded  the  guest  from  the  benefit  of  the  assistance  he  stood 
in  need  of. 


NOTE  X. 

Jl  harp  unseen 

FilVd  up  the  symphony  belween. 

St.  XXX.  p.  39. 

"They  (meaning  the  Highlanders)  delight  much  in  musirkc. 
but  chiefly  in  harps  and  clairschoes  of  their  own  fashion.  The 
strings  of  the  clairschoes  are  made  of  brasse  wire,  and  the  strings 
of  the  harps  of  sinews;  which  strings  they  strike  either  with  their 
nayles,  growing  long,  or  else  with  an  instrument  appointed  fiir 
that  use.  They  take  great  j^leasure  to  decke  their  harps  ami 
clairschoes  with  silver  and  precious  stones  ;  the  poore  ones  thai 
cannot  attayne  hereunto,  deck  them  with  christall.  They  sing 
verses  prettily  compound,  contayning  (for  the  most  part)  prayses 
of  valiant  men.  There  is  not  almost  any  other  argument,  whert'of 
their  rhymes  intreat.     They  speak  the  ancient  French  language 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  243 


altered  a  little."^ — "  The  harp  and  clairschoes  are  now  only  heard 
of  in  the  Highlands  in  ancient  song.  At  what  period  these  instru- 
ments ceased  to  be  used,  is  not  on  record ;  and  tradition  is  silent 
on  this  head.  But,  as  Irish  harpers  occasionally  visited  the  High- 
lands and  Western  Isles  till  lately,  the  harp  might  have  been 
extant  so  late  as  the  middle  of  the  present  century.  Thus  far  we 
know,  that  from  remote  times  down  to  the  present,  harpers  were 
received  as  welcome  guests,  particularly  in  the  Highlands  of  Scot- 
land ;  and  so  late  as  the  latter  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  as 
appears  by  the  above  quotation,  the  harp  was  in  common  use 
among  the  natives  of  the  Western  Isles.  How  it  happened  that 
the  noisy  and  inharmonious  bagpipe  banished  the  soft  and  expres- 
sive harp,  we  cannot  say ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  the  bagpipe  is 
now  the  only  instrument  that  obtains  universally  in  the  Highland 
districts." — Campbell's  Journey  through  North  Britain.  Lond. 
1803,  4to,  i.  175. 

Mr.  Gunn,  of  Edinburgh,  has  lately  published  a  curioi  6  essay 
upon  the  harp  and  harp  music  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  That 
the  instrument  was  once  in  common  use  there,  is  most  certain. 
Cleland  numbers  an  acquaintance  vith  it  among  the  few  accom- 
plishments which  his  satire  allows  to  the  Highlanders  : 

In  nothing  they're  accounted  sharp 
Except  in  bagpipe  or  in  harp. 


'  Vide  "  Certayne  Matters  concerning  the  Realms  of  Scotland,  &c. 
as  they  were  Anno  Domini,  1597.     Lond.  1603."     4to. 


INOTES   TO   CANTO   SECOND. 


NOTE  I. 


Moni's  genial  mjlue.nct  roused  a  minstrel  gray. 

St.  i.  p.  4G. 

The  Highland  chieftains,  to  a  late  period,  retained  in  thei: 
service  the  bard,  as  a  family  officer.  The  author  of  the  Letters 
from  Scotland,  an  officer  of  engineers,  quartered  at  Inverness  about 
1720,  gives  a  minute  account  of  the  office,  and  of  a  bard,  whom  he 
heard  exercise  his  talent  of  recitation. 

"The  hard  is  skilled  in  the  genealogy  of  all  the  Highland  fami- 
lies, sometimes  preceptor  to  the  young  laird,  celebrates  in  Irish 
verse  the  original  of  the  tribe,  the  famous  warlike  actions  of  the 
successive  heads,  and  sings  his  own  lyricks  as  an  opiate  to  the 
chief, -when  indisposed  for  sleep;  but  poets  are  not  equally 
esteemed  and  honoured  in  all  countries.  I  happene'd  to  be  a  wit- 
ness of  the  dishonour  done  to  the  muse,  at  the  house  of  one  of  the 
chiefs,  where  two  of  these  bards  were  set  at  a  good  distance,  at  the 
lower  end  of  a  long  table,  with  a  parcel  of  Highlanders  of  no  extra- 
ordinary appearance,  over  a  cup  of  ale.     Poor  inspiration  ! 

*'They  were  not  asked  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  at  our  table, 
though  the  whole  company  consisted  only  of  the  great  man,  one 
oi  his  near  relations,  and  myself. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND.  241 


"After  some  little  time,  the  chief  ordered  one  of  them  to  sing 
me  a  Highland  song.  The  bard  readily  obeyed,  and  with  a  hoarse 
voice,  and  in  a  tnne  of  few  various  notes,  began,  as  I  was  told,  one 
of  his  own  lyricks  ;  and  when  he  had  proceeded  to  the  fourth  or 
fifth  stanza,  I  perceived,  by  the  names  of  several  persons,  glens, 
and  mountains,  which  I  had  known  or  heard  of  before,  that  it  was 
an  account  of  some  clan  battle.  But  in  his  going  on,  the  chief 
(who  piques  himself  upon  his  school-learning)  at  some  particular 
passage,  bid  him  cease,  and  cryed  out,  '  There's  nothing  like  that 
in  Virgil  or  Homer.'  I  bowed,  and  tokl  him  I  believed  so.  This 
you  may  believe  was  very  edifying  and  delightful." — Letters 
from  Scotland,  ii.  167. 


NOTE  II. 

T/te  Gramme. 

St.  vi.  p.  50. 

The  ancient  and  powerful  family  of  Graham,  (which,  for  metri- 
cal reasons,  is  here  spelt  after  the  Scottish  pronunciation,)  anciently 
held  extensive  possessions  in  the  counties  of  Dumbarton  and  Stir- 
ling. Few  families  can  boast  of  more  historical  renown,  having 
claim  to  three  of  the  most  remarkable  characters  in  the  Scottish 
annals.  Sir  John  the  Grteme,  the  faithful  and  undaunted  partaker 
of  the  labours  and  patriotic  warfare  of  Wallace,  fell  in  the  unfor- 
tunate field  of  Falkirk,  in  1298.  The  celebrated  ^larquis  of 
Montrose,  in  wknii  De  Retz  saw  realized  his  abstract  idea  of  the 
heroes  of  antiquity,  was  the  second  of  these  Avorthies.  And,  not- 
withstanding the  severity  of  his  temper,  and  the  rigour  with  which 
he  executed  the  oppressive  mandates  of  the  princes  whom  he 
served,  1  do  not  hesitate  to  name  as  the  third,  Tohn  Grceme,  of 


246  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


Claverhouse,  Viscount  of  Dundee,  whose  heroic  death,  in  the  arms 
of  victory,  may  be  allowed  to  cancel  the  memory  of  his  cruelty  to 
the  non-conformists,  durintr  the  reisfns  of  Charles  II.  and  James  II. 


NOTE  Ilf. 

Tlds  harp,  which  erst  Saint  Modan  sway\I. 

St.  vii.  p.  .51. 

I  am  not  prepared  to  show  that  Saint  Modan  was  a  performer 
on  the  harp.  It  was,  however,  no  unsaintly  accomplishment ;  for 
Saint  Dunstan  certainly  did.  play  upon  that  instrument,  which, 
retaining-,  as  was  natural,  a  portion  of  the  sanctity  attached  to  its 
master's  character,  announced  future  events  by  its  spontaneous 
sound.  "  But  labouring  once  in  these  mechanic  arts  for  a  devoute 
matrone  that  had  sett  him  on  work,  his  violl,  that  hung  by  him  on 
the  wall,  of  its  own  accord,  without  anie  man's  helpe,  distinctly 
sounded  this  anthime :  Gaudent  in  ccelis  animse  sanctorum  qui 
Christi  vestigia  sunt  secuti ;  et  quia  pro  ejus  amore  sanguinem 
sm/m  faderunt,  ideo  cum  Christo  gaiulcnt  scternum.  Whereat 
all  the  companie  being  much  astonished,  turned  their  eyes  from 
behoulding  him  working,  to  looke  on  that  strange  accident."  .... 
"  Not  long  after,  manie  of  the  court  that  hitherunto  had  borne  a 
kind  of  fayned  friendship  towards  him,  began  now  greatly  to  envie 
at  his  progresse  and  rising  in  goodness,  using  many  crooked, 
backbiting  meanes  to  diffame  his  vertues  with  the  black  markes 
of  hypocrisie.  And  the  better  to  authorize  their  calumnie,  they 
brought  m  this  that  happened  in  the  violl,  affirming  it  to  have 
been  done  by  art  magick.  What  more  !  this  wicked  rumour  en- 
creased  dayly,  till  th?  king  and  others  of  the  nobilitie  takmg  hould 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.      247 


thereof,  Dunstan  grew  odious  in  their  sight.  Therefore  he  resolued 
to  leaue  the  court  and  gee  to  Elphegus,  surnamed  the  Bauld,  then 
bishop  of  Winchester,  who  was  his  cozen.  Which  his  enemies 
understanding,  they  layd  wayte  for  him  in  the  way,  and  hauing 
throwne  him  off  his  horse,  beate  him,  and  dragged  him  in  the  dirt 
in  the  most  miserable  manner,  meaning  to  haue  slain  him,  had  not 
a  companie  of  mastiue  dogges,  that  came  unlookt  upon  them, 
defended  and  redeemed  him  from  their  crueltie.  When  with 
sorrow  he  was  ashamed  to  see  dogges  more  humane  than  they. 
And  giuing  thankes  to  Almightie  God,  he  sensibly  againe  per- 
ceiued  that  the  tunes  of  his  violl  had  giuen  him  a  warning  of 
future  accidents." — Flower  of  the  Lives  of  the  most  rcnownea 
Saincts  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  by  the  R.  Father 
HiEROME  Porter.     Doway,  1632,  4to,  tome  i.  p.  438. 

The  same  supernatural  circumstance  is  alluded  to  by  the  ano- 
nymous author  of  "Grim,  the  CoUier  of  Croydon." 


[^Dtmstan^s  harp  sounds  on  the  wall.'] 


Forest.     Hark,  hark,  my  lord,  the  holy  abbot's  harp 
Soimds  by  itself  so  hanging  on  the  wall ! 

Dimstan.     Unhallow'd  man,  that  scorn'st  the  sacred  rede. 
Hark,  how  the  testimony  of  my  truth 
Sounds  heavenly  music  with  an  angel's  hand 
To  testify  Dunstan's  integrity, 
And  prove  thy  active  boast  of  no  effect." 


248  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


NOTE  IV. 

Ere  Douglasses,  to  ruin  driven, 
Were  exiled  from  their  native  heaven. 

St.  viii.  p.  52. 

The  downfall  of  the  Douglasses  of  the  house  of  Angus,  during 
the  reign  of  James  V.,  is  the  event  alluded  to  in  the  text.  The 
Earl  of  Angus,  it  Avill  be  remembered,  had  married  the  queen 
dowager,  and  availed  himself  of  the  right  which  he  thus  acquired, 
as  well  as  of  his  extensive  power,  to  retain  the  king  in  a  sort  of 
tutelage,  which  approached  very  near  to  captivity.  Several  open 
attempts  were  made  to  rescue  James  from  this  thraldom,  \vilh 
which  he  was  well  known  to  be  deeply  disgusted  ;  but  the  valour 
of  the  Douglasses  and  their  allies  gave  them  the  victory  in  every 
conflict.  At  length,  the  king,  while  residing  at  Falkland,  contrived 
to  escape  by  night  out  of  his  own  court  and  palace,  and  rode  full 
speed  to  Stirling  Castle,  where  the  governor,  vs'ho  was  of  the 
opposite  faction,  joyfully  received  him.  Being  thus  at  liberty, 
James  speedily  summoned  around  him  such  peers  as  he  knew  to 
be  most  inimical  to  the  domination  of  Angus,  and  laid  his  com- 
plaint before  them,  says  Pitscottie,  "  with  great  lamentations  ; 
showing  to  them  how  he  was  holden  in  subjection  thir  years: 
bygone,  by  the  Earl  of  Angus,  and  his  kin  and  friends,  who 
oppressed  the  whole  country,  and  spoiled  it,  under  the  pretence 
of  justice  and  his  authority ;  and  had  slain  many  of  his  lieges, 
Kinsmen,  and  friends,  because  they  would  have  it  mended  at  then 
hands,  and  put  him  at  liberty,  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  at  the 
counsel  of  his  own  lords,  and  not  have  been  subjected  and  con- 
nected with  no  particular  men,  by  the  rest  of  his  nobles  :  There 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.      249 


fore,  said  he,  I  desire,  my  lords,  that  I  may  he  satisfied  of  the  said 
earl,  his  kin,  and  friends  ;  for  I  avow,  that  Scotland  shall  not  hold 
us  both,  while  (i.  e.,  till)  I  be  revenged  on  him  and  his. 

"The  lords  hearing  the  king's  complaint  and  lamentation,  and 
also  the  great  rage,  fury,  and  malice,  that  he  bora  toward  the  Earl 
of  Angus,  his  kin  and  friends,  they  concluded  all,  and  thought  it 
best,  that  he  should  be  summoned  to  underly  the  law ;  if  he  fand 
not  caution,  nor  yet  compear  himself,  that  he  should  be  put  to  the 
horn,  with  all  his  kin  and  friends,  so  many  as  were  contained  in 
the  letters.  And  further,  the  lords  ordained,  by  advice  of  his 
majesty,  that  his  brother  and  friends  should  be  summoned  to  find 
caution  to  underly  the  law  within  a  certain  day,  or  else  be  put  to 
the  horn.  But  the  earl  appeared  not,  nor  none  for  him ;  and  so 
he  was  put  to  the  horn,  with  all  his  kin  and  friends ;  so  many  as 
were  contained  in  the  summons,  that  compeared  not,  were 
banished,  and  holden  traitors  to  the  king." — Lindsay  of  Pit' 
scoi'ie's  History  of  Scotland.     Edinburgh,  fol.  p.  142. 


NOTE  V. 

In  Hohjrood  a  knight  he  slew. 

St.  xii.  p.  55. 

This  was  by  no  means  an  uncommon  occurrence  m  the  court 
of  Scotland  ;  nay  the  presence  of  the  sovereign  himself  scarcely 
restrained  the  ferocious  and  inveterate  feuds  which  were  the  per- 
petual source  of  bloodshed  among  the  Scottish  nobility.  The 
following  instance  of  the  murder  of  Sir  William  Stuart  of  Ochil- 
tree, called  The  Bloody,  by  the  celebrated  Francis,  Earl  of  Both- 
well,  may  be  produced  among  many  ;  but,  as  the  offence  given  in 


250  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


the  royal  court  will  hardly  bear  a  vernacular  translation,  I  shall 
leave  die  story  in  Johnstone's  Latin,  referring  for  particulars  to  ths 
naked  simplicity  of  Birrell's  Diary,  30th  July,  158S. 

"  Mors  improbi  hominis  non  tarn  ipsa  immerita,  quam  pessimo 
exemplo  in  publicuai  foede  perpelrata.  Gulielmus  Sluartus  Alkil- 
trius,  Arani  frater,  natura  ac  moribus  cujus  scepius  memini,  vulgo 
propter  sitim  sanguinis  sanguinarius  dictus,  a  Bothvelio,  in  Sanctas 
Crucis  Regia  exardescente  ira,  mendacii  probo  lacessitus,  obsca?- 
num  osculum  liberius  retorquebat ;  Bothvelius  banc  contumeliam 
tacitus  tulit,  sed  ingentem  irarum  molem  animo  concepit.  Utrin- 
que  postridie  Edinburgi  conventum,  totidem  nuinero  comitibus 
armatis,  prassidii  causa,  et  acriter  pugnatum  est ;  cseteris  amicis  et 
clientibus  metu  torpentibus,  aut  vi  absterritis,  ipse,  Stuartus  fortis- 
sime  dimicat,  tandem  excusso  gladio  a  Bothvelio,  Scythica  feritate 
transfoditur,  sine  cujusquam  misericordia ;  habuit  itaque  quem 
debuit.  exitum.  Dignus  erat  Stuartus  qui  pateretur ;  Bothvelius 
qui  faceret.  Vulgus  sanguinem  sanguine  prasdicabat,  et  horum 
cruore  innocuorum  manibus  egregis  parenlatum." — R.  Johnstoni 
Historia  Rerinn  Britannicarum,  ab  anno  1572  ad  annum  102S 
Amstelodami,  1655,  fol.  p.  135. 


NOTE  \  I. 

The  Douglas,  like  a  stricken  deer, 
Disowned  by  every  noble  peer. 

St.  xii.  p.  55, 

The  exiled  state  of  this  powerful  race  is  not  exaggerated  in  this 
and  subsequent  passages.  The  hatred  of  James  against  the  race 
of  Douglas  was  so  inveterate  that,  numerous  as  their  allies  wera 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.      251 


and  disregarded  as  the  regal  authoritj^  had  usually  been  in  similar 
cases,  their  nearest  friends,  even  in  the  most  remote  parts  of  Scot- 
land, durst  not  entertain  them,  unless  under  the  strictest  and  closest 
disguise.  James  Douglas,  son  of  the  banished  Earl  of  Angus, 
afterwards  well  known  by  the  title  of  Earl  of  Morton,  lurked, 
during  the  exile  of  his  family,  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  under  the 
assumed  name  of  James  Innes,  otherwise  James  the  Grieve,  (1.  e  , 
Reve  or  BailifT.)  "  And  as  he  bore  the  name,"  says  Godscroft, 
"  so  did  he  also  execute  the  office  of  a  grieve  or  overseer  of  the 
lands  and  rents,  the  corn  and  cattle,  of  him  with  whom  he  lived." 
From  the  habits  of  frugality  and  observation  which  he  acquired  in 
this  humble  situation,  the  historian  traces  that  intimate  acquaint- 
ance wiin  y>Gpuiar  cnaracter,  which  enabled  him  to  rise  so  high  in 
the  state,  and  that  honourable  economy  by  which  he  repaired  and 
established  the  shattered  estates  of  Angus  and  Morton. — History 
of  the  House  of  Douglas.     Edinburgh,  1743,  vol.  ii.  p.  IGO. 


NOTE  VII. 

Mar 071)1  a n' s  cell. 

St.  xiii.  p.  57. 

The  parish  of  Kilmarnock,  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  Loch- 
Lomond,  derives  its  name  from  a  cell  or  chapel,  dedicated  to  Saint 
Maronock,  or  Marnock,  or  Maronnan,  about  whose  sanctity  very 
little  is  now  remembered.  There  is  a  fountain  devoted  to  him  in 
the  same  parish,  but  its  virtues,  like  the  merits  of  its  patron,  have 
(alien  into  oblivion. 


252  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


NOTE  VIII. 

Bracklinn' s  thundering  wave. 

St.  xiv.  p.  57. 

This  is  a  beautiful  cascade  made  at  a  place  called  the  Bridge 
of  Bracklinn,  by  a  mountain  stream  called  the  Kekie,  about  a  mile 
from  the  village  of  Callender,  in  Menteith.  Above  a  chasm,  where 
the  brook  precipitates  itself  from  a  height  of  at  least  fifty  feet,  there 
is  thrown,  for  the  convenience  of  the  neighbourhood,  a  rustic  foot- 
bridge, of  about  three  feet  in  breadth,  and  without  ledges,  which  is 
scarcely  to  be  crossed  by  a  stranger  without  awe  and  apprehension. 


NOTE  IX. 

For  Tineman  forged  by  fairy  lore. 

St.  XV.  p.  .59. 

Archibald,  the  third  Earl  of  Douglas,  was  so  unfortunate  in  all 
his  enterprises,  that  he  acquired  the  epithet  of  Tineman,  because 
he  lined,  or  lost,  his  followers  in  every  battle  which  he  fought.  He 
was  vanquished,  as  every  reader  must  remember,  in  the  bloody 
battle  of  Homildon  Hill,  near  Wooler,  where  he  himself  lost  an 
eye,  and  was  made  a  prisoner  by  Hotspur.  He  was  no  less  un- 
fortunate when  allied  with  Percy,  being  wounded  and  taken  at  the 
battle  of  Shrewsbury.  He  was  so  unsuccessful  in  an  attempt  tc 
besiege  Roxburgh  Castle,  that  it  was  called  the  Foul  Baid,  or  dis- 
graceful expedition.  His  ill  fortune  left  him  indeed  at  the  battle 
of  Beauge,  in  France;    but  it  was  only  to  return  with   double 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND.  253 


emphasis  at  the  subsequent  action  of  Verneuil,  the  last  and  most 
uniuck}'  of  his  encounters,  in  wliich  he  fell,  with  the  flower  of  the 
Scottish  chivalry,  then  serving  as  auxiliaries  in  France,  and  about 
two  thousand  common  soldiers,  A.  D.  1424. 


NOTE  X. 

Did,  self-iinscahbarded,  foreshow 
The  footstep  of  a  secret  foe. 

St.  XV.  p.  59. 

The  ancient  warriors,  whose  hope  and  confidence  rested  chiefiy 
in  their  blades,  were  accustomed  to  deduce  omens  from  them, 
especially  from  such  as  were  supposed  to  have  been  fabricated  by 
enchanted  skill,  of  which  we  have  various  instances  in  the  ro- 
mances and  legends  of  the  time.  The  wonderful  sword  Skof- 
NuxG,  wielded  by  the  celebrated  Hrolf  Kraka,  was  of  this  descrip- 
tion. It  was  deposited  in  the  tomb  of  the  monarch  at  his  death, 
and  taken  from  thence  by  Skeggo,  a  celebrated  pirate,  who  be- 
stowed it  upon  his  son-in-law,  Kormak,  Avith  the  following  curious 
directions  :  "The  manner  of  using  it  will  appear  strange  to  you. 
A  small  bag  is  attached  to  it,  which  take  heed  not  to  violate.  Let 
not  the  rays  of  the  sun  touch  the  upper  part  of  the  handle,  nor 
unsheathe  it,  unless  thou  art  ready  for  battle.  But  when  thou 
comest  to  the  place  of  fight,  go  aside  from  the  rest,  grasp  and 
extend  the  sword,  and  breathe  upon  it.  Then  a  small  worm  will 
creep  out  of  the  handle :  lower  the  handle,  that  he  may  more 
easily  return  into  it."  Kormak,  after  having  received  the  sword, 
returned  home  to  his  mother.  He  showed  the  sword,  and  attempted 
to  draw  it,  as  unnecessarily  as  ineffectually,  for  he  could  not  pluck 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


it  out  of  the  sheath.  His  mother,  Dalla,  exc  aimed,  "Do  not 
despise  the  counsel  given  to  thee,  my  son."  Kormak,  however, 
repeating  his  efforts,  pressed  down  the  handle  with  his  feet,  and 
tore  off  the  bag,  when  Skofnung  emitted  a  hollow  groan  :  but  still 
he  could  not  unsheathe  the  sword.  Kormak  then  went  out  with 
Bessus,  whom  he  had  challenged  to  fight  with  him,  and  drew 
apart  at  the  place  of  combat.  He  sat  down  upon  the  ground,  and 
ungirding  the  sword,  which  he  bore  above  his  vestments,  did  not 
remember  to  shield  the  hilt  from  the  rays  of  the  sun.  In  vain  he 
endeavoured  to  draw  it,  till  he  placed  his  foot  against  the  hilt ; 
then  the  worm  issued  from  it.  But  Kormak  did  not  rightly  handle 
the  weapon,  in  consequence  whereof  good  fortune  deserted  it.  As 
he  unsheathed  Skofnung,  it  emitted  a  hollow  murmur. — Bartholini 
de  Causls  Contemptx  a  Danis  adhuc  GentiUbits  Mortis,  Libri 
Tres.     HafniiE,  16S9,  4to,  p.  574. 

To  the  history  of  this  sentient  and  prescient  weapon,  I  beg  leave 
to  add,  from  memory,  the  following  legend,  for  which  I  cannot 
produce  any  better  authority.  A  young  nobleman,  of  high  hopes 
and  fortune,  chanced  to  lose  his  way  in  the  town  which  he  inha- 
bited, the  capital,  if  I  mistake  not,  of  a  German  province.  He 
had  accidentally  involved  himself  among  the  narrow  and  winding 
streets  of  a  suburb,  inhabited  b}^  the  lowest  order  of  the  people, 
and  an  approaching  thunder-shower  determined  him  to  ask  a  short 
refuge  in  the  most  decent  habitation  that  was  near  him.  He 
knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  a  tall  man,  of  a  grisly 
and  ferocious  aspect,  and  sordid  dress.  The  stranger  was  readily 
ushered  to  a  chamber,  where  swords,  scourges,  and  machines, 
which  seemed  to  be  implements  of  torture,  were  suspended  on  the 
wall.  One  of  these  swords  dropped  from  its  scabbard,  as  the  no- 
bleman, after  a»  moment's  hesitation,  crossed  the  threshold.  His 
nost  immediately  stared  at  him  with  such  a  marked  expression 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.       255 


that  the  young  man  could  not  help  demanding  his  name  and  busi 
ness,  and  the  meaning  of  his  looking  at  him  so  fixedly.  "  I  am,'' 
answered  the  man,  "  the  public  executioner  of  this  city  ;  and  the 
incider.c  you  have  observed  is  a  sure  augury,  that  I  shall,  in  dis- 
charge of  my  duty,  one  day  cut  off  your  head  with  the  weapon 
which  has  just  now  spontaneously  unsheathed  itself."  The  noble- 
man lost  no  time  in  leaving  his  place  of  refuge  ;  but,  engaging  in 
some  of  the  plots  of  the  period,  was  shortly  after  decapitated  by 
that  very  man  and  instrument. 

Lord  Lovat  is  said,  by  the  author  of  the  Letters  from  Scotland, 
to  have  affirmed,  that  a  number  of  swords,  that  hung  up  in  the 
hall  of  the  mansion-house,  leaped  of  themselves  out  of  the  scabbard 
at  the  instant  he  was  born.  This  story  passed  current  among  hia 
clan,  but,  like  that  of  the  story  I  have  just  quoted,  proved  an  un- 
fortunate omen. — Letters  from  Scotland,  vol.  ii.  p.  214. 


NOTE  XL 

The  pibroch  proud. 

St.  xvii.  p.  6L 

The  connoisseurs  in  pipe-music  affect  to  discover,  in  a  well- 
composed  pibroch,  the  imitative  sounds  of  march,  cor.fiict,  flight, 
pursuit,  and  all  the  "current  of  a  heady  fight."  To  this  opinion, 
Dr.  Beattie  has  given  his  suffrage  in  the  following  elegant  pas- 
sage : — "  A  pibroch  is  a  species  of  tune,  peculiar,  I  think,  to  the 
Highlands  and  Western  Isles  of  Scotland.  It  is  performed  on  a 
bagpipe,  and  differs  totally  from  all  other  music.  Its  rhythm  is 
:o  irregular,  and  its  notes,  especially  in  the  quick  movement,  so 
mixed  and  huddled  together,  that  a  stranger  finds  it  impossible  tj 


256*  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


reconcile  his  ear  to  it,  so  as  to  perceive  its  modulation.  Some  of 
these  pibrochs,  being  intended  to  represent  a  battle,  begin  with  a 
grave  motion,  resembling  a  march ;  then  gradually  quicken  into 
the  onset;  run  off  with  noisy  confusion  and  turbulent  rapidity,  to 
imitate  the  conflict  and  pursuit ;  then  swell  into  a  few  flourishes 
of  triumphant  joy  ;  and  perhaps  close  with  the  wild  and  slow  wail- 
ings  of  a  funeral  procession." — Essay  on  Laughter  and  Ludicrous 
Composition,  chap.  iii.     Note. 


NOTE  XII. 

Roderigh  vich  ^^Ipine  Dim,  ho!  ieroe ! 

St.  xix.  p.  63. 

Besides  his  ordinary  name  and  surname,  which  were  chiefly 
used  in  the  intercourse  with,  the  Lowlands,  every  Highland  chief 
had  an  epithet  expressive  of  his  patriarchal  dignity  as  head  of  the 
clan,  and  which  was  common  to  all  his  predecessors  and  succes- 
sors, as  Pharaoh  to  the  kings  of  Egypt,  or  Arsaces  to  those  of  Par- 
thia.  This  name  was  usually  a  patronymic,  expressive  of  his 
descent  from  the  founder  of  the  family.  Thus  the  Duke  of  Argyle 
is  called  Mac  Callanmore,  or  the  Son  of  Colin  the  Great.  Some- 
times, however,  it  is  derived  from  armorial  distinctions,  or  the 
memory  of  some  great  feat ;  thus  Lord  Seaforth,  as  chief  of  the 
Mackenzies,  or  Clan-Kennet,  bears  the  epithet  of  Caber-fae,  or 
Buck's  Head,  as  representative  of  Colin  Fitzgerald,  founder  of  the 
family,  who  saved  the  Scottish  king,  when  endangered  by  a  stag. 
But  besides  this  title,  which  belonged  to  his  office  and  dignity,  the 
chieftain  had  usually  another  peculiar  to  himself,  which  distin- 
guished him  from  the  chieftains  of  the  same  race.  This  was 
sometimes  derived  from  complexion,  as  dhu  or  7'0ij ;  sometimes 


I 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND.  25"? 


from  size,  as  leg  or  more  ;  at  other  times,  from  some  particular 
exploit,  or  from  some  peculiarity  of  habit  or  appearance.  The  line 
of  the  text  therefore  signifies,  "  Black  Roderick,  the  descendant  of 
Alpine." 

The  song-  itself  is  intended  as  an  imitation  of  the  jorrams,  or 
boat-songs  of  the  Highlanders,  which  were  usually  composed  in 
honour  of  a  favourite  chief.  They  are  so  adapted  as  to  keep  lime 
with  the  sweep  of  the  oars,  and  it  is  easy  to  distinguish  between 
those  intended  to  be  sung  to  the  oars  of  a  galley,  where  the  stroke 
is  lengthened  and  doubled  as  it  were,  and  those  which  were  timed 
to  the  rowers  of  an  ordinary  boat. 


NOTE  XIII. 

The  best  of  Loch- Lomond  lie  dead  on  her  side. 

St.  XX.  p.  63. 

The  Lennox,  as  the  district  is  called,  which  encircles  the  lower 
extremity  of  Loch-Loraond,  was  peculiarly  exposed  to  the  incur- 
sions of  mountaineers,  who  inhabited  the  inaccessible  fastnesses  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  lake,  and  the  neighbouring  district  of  Loch- 
Katrine.  These  were  often  marked  by  circumstances  of  great 
ferocity,  of  which  the  noted  conflict  of  Glenfruin  is  a  celebrated 
instance.  This  was  a  clan-battle,  in  which  the  Macgregors,  headed 
by  Allaster  Macgregor,  chief  of  the  clan,  encountered  the  sept  of 
Colquhouns,  commanded  by  Sir  Humphry  Colquhoun  of  Luss. 
It  is  on  all  hands  allowed,  that  the  action  was  desperately  fought, 
and  that  the  Colquhouns  were  defeated  with  slaughter,  leaving 
two  hundred  of  their  name  dead  upon  the  field.  But  popular  tra- 
dition has  added  other  horrors  to  the  tale.  It  is  said,  that  Sir 
Humphry  Colquhoun,    ,vho  was  on    horseback,   escaped  to  tl  e 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


castle  of  Benechra,  or  Banochar,  and  was  next  day  dragged  out 
and  murdered  by  the  victorious  Macgregors  in  cold  blood.  Bucha- 
nan of  Auchmar,  however,  speaks  of  his  slaughter  as  a  subsequent 
event,  and  as  perpetrated  by  the  Macfarlanes.  Again  it  is  re- 
ported, that  the  Macgregors  murdered  a  number  of  youths,  whom 
report  of  the  intended  battle  had  brought  to  be  spectators,  and 
whom  the  Colquhouns,  anxious  for  their  safety,  had  shut  up  in  a 
barn,  to  be  out  of  danger.  One  account  of  the  Macgregors  denies 
this  circumstance  entirely  :  another  ascribes  it  to  the  savage  and 
blood-thirsty  disposition  of  a  single  individual,  the  bastard  brother 
of  the  Laird  of  Macgregor,  who  amused  himself  with  this  second 
massacre  of  the  innocents,  in  express  disobedience  to  the  chief,  by 
whom  he  was  left  their  guardian  during  the  pursuit  of  the  Colqu- 
houns.  It  is  added,  that  Macgregor  bitterly  lamented  this  atrocious 
action,  and  prophesied  the  ruin  which  it  must  bring  upon  their 
ancient  clan.  The  following  account  of  the  conflict,  which  is 
indeed  drawn  up  by  a  friend  of  the  Clan  Gregor,  is  altogether 
silent  on  the  murder  of  the  youths.  "  In  the  spring  of  the  year 
1602,  there  happened  great  dissensions  and  troubles  between  the 
Laird  of  Luss,  chief  of  the  Colquhouns,  and  Alexander,  Laird  of 
Macgregor.  The  original  of  these  quarrels  proceeded  from  inju- 
ries and  provocations  mutually  given  and  received,  not  long  before. 
Macgregor,  however,  wanting  to  have  them  ended  in  friendly 
conferences,  marched,  at  the  head  of  two  hundred  of  his  clan,  to 
Leven,  which  borders  on  Luss,  his  country,  with  a  view  of  settling 
matters  by  the  mediation  of  friends  :  but  Luss  had  no  such  inten- 
tions, and  projected  his  measures  with  a  different  view ;  for  he 
privately  drew  together  a  body  of  three  hundred  horse,  and  five 
hundred  foot,  composed  partly  of  his  own  clan  and  their  followers, 
and  partly  of  the  Buchanans,  his  neighbours,  and  resolved  to  cut 
off  Macgregor  and  hi?  party  to  a  m.an,  in  case  the  issue  of  the  con- 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.      259 


ference  did  not  answer  his  inclination.  But  matters  fell  otherwise 
than  he  expected  ;  and  though  Macgregor  had  previous  informa- 
tion of  his  insidious  design,  yet,  dissembling  his  resentment,  he 
kept  the  appointment,  and  parted  good  friends  in  appearance. 

"No  sooner  was  he  gone,  than  Luss,  thinking  to  surprise  him 
and  his  party  in  full  security,  and  without  any  dread  or  apprehen- 
sion of  his  treachery,  followed  with  all  speed,  and  came  up  with 
him  at  a  place  called  Glenfroon.  Macgregor,  upon  the  alarm, 
divided  his  men  into  two  parties,  the  greatest  part  whereof  he 
commanded  himself,  and  the  other  he  committed  to  the  care  of  his 
brother  John,  who,  by  his  orders,  led  them  about  another  way,  and 
attacked  the  Colquhouns  in  flank.  Here  it  was  fought  with  great 
bravery  on  both  sides  for  a  considerable  time  ;  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  vast  disproportion  of  numbers,  Macgregor,  in  the  end, 
obtained  an  absolute  victory.  So  great  was  the  rout,  that  two 
hundred  of  the  Colquhouns  were  left  dead  upon  the  spot,  most  of 
the  leading  men  were  killed,  and  a  multitude  of  prisoners  taken. 
But  what  seemed  most  surprising  and  incredible  in  this  defeat, 
was,  that  none  of  the  Macgregors  were  missing,  except  John,  the 
laird's  brother,  and  one  common  fellow,  though  indeed  many  of 
them  were  wounded." — Professor  Ross's  History  of  the  Famih/ 
of  Sutherland,  1631. 

The  consequences  of  the  battle  of  Glen-fruin  were  very  cala- 
mitous to  the  family  of  Macgregor,  who  had  already  been  consi- 
dered as  an  unruly  clan.  The  widows  of  the  slain  Colquhouns, 
sixty,  it  is  said,  in  number,  appeared  in  doleful  procession  before 
the  king  at  Stirling,  each  riding  upon  a  white  palfry,  and  bearing 
in  her  hand  the  bloody  shirt  of  her  husband  displayed  upon  a 
pike.  James  VI.  was  so  much  moved  by  the  complaints  of  this 
"choir  of  mourning  dames,"  that  he  let  loose  his  vengeance 
against  the  Macgregors,  without  either   bounds  or  moderation 


2G0 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND. 


The  very  name  of  the  clan  was  proscribed,  and  those  by  whom  j'. 
had  been  borne  were  given  up  to  sword  and  fire,  and  absolutely 
hunted  down  by  bloodhounds,  like  wild  beasts.  Argyle  and  the 
Campbells,  on  the  one  hand,  Montrose,  with  the  Grahames  and 
Buchanans,  on  the  other,  are  said  to  have  been  the  chief  instru- 
ments in  suppressing  this  devoted  clan.  The  Laird  of  Macgregor 
surrendered  to  the  former,  on  condition  that  he  would  take  him  out 
of  Scottish  ground.  But,  to  use  Birrel's  expression,  he  kept  "  a 
Highiandman's  promise ;"  and,  although  he  fulfilled  his  word  to 
the  letter,  by  carrying  him  as  far  as  Berwick,  he  afterwards  brought 
him  back  to  Edinburgh,  where  he  was  executed  with  eighteen  of 
his  clan.— Birrel's  Diary,  2d  Oct.,  1603.  The  Clan  Gregor 
being  thus  driven  to  utter  despair,  seemed  to  have  renounced  the 
laws  from  the  benefit  of  which  they  were  excluded,  and  their 
depredations  produced  new  acts  of  council,  confirming  the  severity 
of  their  proscription,  which  had  only  the  effect  of  rendering  them 
still  more  united  and  desperate.  It  is  a  most  extraordinary  proof 
of  the  ardent  and  invincible  spirit  of  clanship,  that,  notwithstanding 
the  repeated  proscriptions  providently  ordained  by  the  legislature, 
"  for  the  iimeous  preventing  the  disorders  and  oppression  that 
may  fall  out  by  the  said  name  and  clan  of  Macgregors,  and  their 
followers,"  they  were,  in  1715  and  1745,  a  potent  clan,  and  con- 
.inue  to  subsist  as  a  dis'/nct  and  numerous  race. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND.  2G1 


NOTE  XIV. 

The  King's  vindictive  pride 
Boasts  to  have  tamed  the  Border  side. 

St.  xxviii.  p.  71. 

In  1.529,  James  V.  made  a  convention  at  Edinburgh,  for  the 
p.irpose  of  considering-  the  best  mode  of  quelling  the  Border 
robbers,  who,  during  the  license  of  his  minority,  and  the  troubles 
which  followed,  had  committed  many  exorbitances.  Accordingly 
he  assembled  a  flying  army  often  thousand  men,  consisting  of  hij 
principal  nobility  and  their  followers,  who  Avere  directed  to  brint^ 
their  hawks  and  dogs  with  them,  that  the  monarch  might  refresh 
himself  with  sport  during  the  intervals  of  military  execution. 
With  this  array  he  swept  through  Ettricke  Forest,  where  he 
hanged,  over  the  gate  of  his  OAvn  castle,  Piers  Cockburn  of  Hen- 
derland,  who  had  prepared,  according  to  tradition,  a  feast  for  his 
reception.  He  caused.  Adam  Scott  of  Tushielaw  also  to  be  exe- 
cuted, who  was  distinguished  by  the  title  of  King  of  the  Border. 
But  the  most  noted  victim  of  justice,  during  that  expedition,  was 
John  Armstrong  of  Gilnokie,  famous  in  Scottish  song,  who,  con- 
fiding in  his  own  supposed  innocence,  met  the  king,  with  a  retinue 
of  thirty-six  persons,  all  of  whom  were  hanged  at  Carlenrig,  near 
the  source  of  the  Teviot.  The  effect  of  this  severity  was  such, 
that,  as  the  vulgar  expressed  it,  "  the  rush-bush  kept  the  coav," 
and  "  thereafter  was  great  peace  and  rest  a  long  time,  where- 
through the  king  had  great  profit ;  for  he  had  ten  thousand  sheep 
going  in  the  Ettricke  Forest  in  keeping  by  Andrew  Bell,  who 
made  the  king  as  good  count  of  them  as  they  had  gone  in  the 
bounds  of  Fife.'' — Pitscottie's  History,  p.  153. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 


NOTE  XV. 

What  grace  for  Highland  chiefs  judge  ye, 
By  fate  of  Border  chivalry. 

St.  xxviii.  p.  72. 

James  was,  in  fact,  equally  attentive  to  restrain  rapine  and  feuda. 
oppression  in  every  part  of  his  dominions.  •'  The  king  past  to 
the  Isles,  and  there  held  justice  courts,  and  punished  both  thiel 
and  traitor  according  to  their  demerit.  And,  also,  he  caused  great 
men  to  show  their  holdings,  wherethrough  he  found  many  of  the 
said  lands  in  non-entry ;  the  which  he  confiscate  and  brought  home 
to  his  own  use,  and  afterwards  annexed  them  to  the  crown,  as  ye 
shall  hear.  Syne  brought  many  of  the  great  men  of  the  Isles 
captive  with  him,  such  as  Mudyart,  M'Connel,  M'Loyd  of  the 
Lewes,  M'Neil,  M'Lane,  M'Intosh,  John  Mudyard,  M'Kay, 
M'Kenzie,  with  many  other  that  I  cannot  rehearse  at  this  time. 
Some  of  them  he  put  in  ward  and  some  in  court,  and  some  he  took 
pledges  for  good  rule  in  time  coming.  So  he  brought  the  Isles, 
both  north  and  south,  in  good  rule  and  peace ;  wherefore  he  had 
great  profit,  service,  and  obedience  of  people  a  long  time  hereafter; 
and  as  long  as  he  had  the  heads  of  the  country  in  subjection,  they 
lived  in  great  peace  and  rest,  and  there  was  great  riches  and  policy 
by  the  king's  justice." — Pixscoi^nE,  p.  152. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND.  263 


NOTE  XVI. 

Rest  safe  till  morning — pity  ^twere 
Such  cheek  should  feel  the  midnight  air. 

St.  XXXV.  p.  79. 

Hardihood  was  in  every  respect  so  essential  to  the  character  of 
a  nighlaiiulr,  that  the  reproach  of  effeminacy  was  the  most  bittei 
which  could  be  thrown  upon  him.  Yet  it  was  sometimes  hazarded 
on  what  we  might  presume  to  think  slight  grounds.  It  is  reported 
of  old  Sir  Ewen  Cameron  of  Lochiel,  when  upwards  of  seventy, 
that  he  was  surprised  by  night  on  a  hunting  or  mihtary  expedition. 
He  wrapped  him  in  his  plaid,  and  lay  contentedly  down  upon  the 
snow,  with  which  the  ground  happened  to  be  covered.  Among 
his  attendants,  who  were  preparing  to  take  their  rest  in  the  same 
manner,  he  observed  that  one  of  his  grandsons,  for  his  bettei 
accommodation,  had  rolled  a  large  snow-ball,  and  placed  it  below 
his  head.  The  wrath  of  the  ancient  chief  was  awakened  by  a 
symptom  of  what  he  conceived  to  be  degenerate  luxury.  "Out 
upon  thee,"  said  he,  kicking  the  frozen  bolster  from  the  head 
which  it  supported,  "art  thou  so  effeminate  as  to  need  a  pillow?" 
The  officer  of  engineers,  whose  curious  letters  from  the  Highlands 
have  been  more  than  once  quoted,  tells  a  similar  story  of  Mac- 
donald  of  Keppoch,  and  subjoins  the  following  remarks  : 

"  Thi.s  and  many  other  stories  are  romantick  ;  but  there  is  one 
thing,  that  at  first  thought  might  seem  very  romantick,  of  which  1 
have  been  credibly  assured,  that  when  the  Highlanders  are  con- 
s".rained  to  lie  among  the  hills,  in  cold  dry  windy  weather,  they 
sometimes  soak  the  plaid  in  some  river  or  burn,  {i.  e.,  brook ;)  and 
'.hen,  holding  up  a  corner  of  it  a  httle  above  their  heads,  they  turn 


364      NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND. 


themselves;  round  and  round,  till  they  are  enveloped  by  the  n-hole 
mantle.  They  then  lie  themselves  down  on  the  heath,  upon  the 
leeward  side  of  some  hiU,  where  the  wet  and  the  warmth  of  their 
bodies  make  a  steam,  like  that  of  a  boiling  kettle.  The  wet,  they 
say,  keeps  them  warm  by  thickening  the  stuff,  and  keeping  the 
wind  from  penetrating. 

"  I  must  confess  I  should  have  been  apt  to  question  this  fa  -., 
had  I  not  frequently  seen  them  wet  from  morning  to  night ;  and, 
even  at  the  beginning  of  the  rain,  not  so  much  as  stir  a  few  yards 
to  sheher,  but  continue  in  it  without  necessity,  till  they  were,  as 
we  say,  wet  through  and  through.  And  that  is  soon  effected  by 
che  looseness  and  spunginess  of  the  plaiding ;  but  the  bonnet  is 
frequently  taken  off,  and  wrung  like  a  dishclout,  and  then  put 
on  again. 

«'  They  have  been  accustomed  from  their  infancy  to  be  often 
wet,  and  to  take  the  water  like  spaniels,  and  this  is  become  a 
second  nature,  and  can  scarcely  be  called  a  hardship  to  them,  inso- 
much that  I  used  to  say,  they  seemed  to  be  of  the  duck-kind,  and 
to  love  water  as  well.  Though  I  never  saw  this  preparation  for 
sleep  in  windy  weather,  yet,  setting  out  early  in  a  morning  from 
one  of  the  huts,  I  have  seen  the  marks  of  their  lodging,  where  the 
ground  has  been  free  from  rime  or  snow,  which  remained  all 
around  the  spot  where  they  had  lain." — Letters  from  ScoIIcukU 
Lond.  1754,  8vo,  ii.  p.  108. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND.  265 


NOTE  XVII. 

His  henchman  came. 

St.  XXXV.  p.  79. 

"This  officer  is  a  sort  of  secretary,  and  is  to  be  ready,  upon 
all  occasions,  to  venture  his  life  in  defence  of  his  master ;  and  at 
drinking-bouts  he  stands  behind  his  seat,  at  his  haunch,  from 
whence  his  title  is  derived,  and  watches  the  conversation,  to  see  if 
any  one  offends  his  patron. 

"An  English  officer  being  in  company  with  a  certain  chieftain, 
and  several  other  Highland  gentlemen,  near  Killichumen,  had  an 
argument  with  the  great  man;  and  both  being  well  warmed  with 
usky,  at  last  the  dispute  grew  very  hot. 

"A  youth,  who  was  henchman,  not  understanding  one  word  of 
English,  imagined  his  chief  was  insulted,  and  thereupon  drew  his 
pistol  from  his  side,  and  snapped  it  at  the  officer's  head ;  but  the 
pistol  missed  fire,  otherwise  it  is  more  than  probable  he  might 
have  suffered  death  from  the  hand  of  that  little  vermin. 

"  But  it  is  very  disagreeable  to  an  Englishman  over  a  bottle, 
with  the  Highlanders,  to  see  every  one  of  them  have  his  gilly, 
that  is,  his  servant,  standing  behind  him  all  the  while,  let  what 
will  be  the  subject  of  conversation."— Ze/fers  from  Scotland, 
ii.  159. 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   THIRD. 


NOTE  I. 


The  Fiery  Cross  glanced,  like  a  meteor,  round. 

St.  i.  p.  83. 

When  a  chieftain  desired  to  summon  his  clan,  upon  any  sudden 
Sr  important  emergency,  he  slew  a  goat,  and  making  a  cross  of 
any  light  wood,  seared  its  extremities  in  the  fire,  and  extinguished 
them  in  the  blood  of  the  animal.  This  was  called  the  Fiery  Cross, 
also  Crean  Tarigh,  or  the  Cross  of  Shame,  because  disobedience 
to  what  the  symbol  implied  inferred  infamy.  It  was  delivered  to 
a  swift  and  trusty  messenger,  who  ran  full  speed  with  it  to  the 
next  hamlet,  where  he  presented  it  to  the  principal  person,  with  a 
single  word,  implying  the  place  of  rendezvous.  He  who  received 
the  symbol  was  bound  to  send  it  forward,  with  equal  despatch,  to 
the  next  village ;  and  thus  it  passed,  with  incredible  celerity, 
through  all  the  district  which  owed  allegiance  to  the  chief,  and 
also  among  his  allies  and  neighbours,  if  the  danger  was  common 
to  them.  At  sight  of  the  Fiery  Cross,  every  man  from  sixteen 
years  old  to  sixty,  capable  of  bearing  arms,  was  obliged  instantly 
to  repair,  in  his  best  arms  and  accoutrements,  to  the  place  of  ren- 
dezvous. He  who  failed  to  appear  suffered  the  extremities  of  fire 
Uid  sword,  which  were  emblematically  denounced  to  the  disobe-  • 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  26 


(lient  by  the  bloody  and  burnt  marks  upon  this  warhke  signal 
During  the  civil  -war  of  1745-6,  the  Fiery  Cross  often  made  its 
circuit ;  and  upon  one  occasion  it  passed  through  the  whole  dis 
trict  of  Breadalbane,  a  tract  of  thirty-two  miles,  in  three  hours 
The  late  Alexander  Stewart,  Esq.,  of  Invernahyle,  described  tc 
me  his  having  sent  round  the  Fiery  Cross  through  the  district  of 
Appine,  during  the  same  commotion.  The  coast  was  threatened 
by  a  descent  from  two  English  frigates,  and  the  flower  of  the 
young  men  were  with  the  army  of  Prince  Charles  Edward,  then 
in  England  :  yet  the  summons  was  so  effectual,  that  even  old  age 
and  childhood  obeyed  it;  and  a  force  was  collected  in  a  few  hours, 
so  numerous  and  so  enthusiastic,  that  all  attempt  at  the  intended 
diversion  upon  the  country  of  the  absent  warriors  was  in  prudence 
abandoned  as  desperate. 

This  practice,  like  some  others,  is  common  to  the  Highlanders 
with  the  ancient  Scandinavians,  as  will  appear  by  the  following 
extract  from  Olaus  Magnus  : 

"  When  the  enemy  is  upon  the  sea-coast,  or  within  the  limits  of 
northern  kingdomes,  then  presently,  by  the  command  of  the  pro- 
vincial governours,  with  the  counsel  and  consent  of  the  old  soldiers 
who  are  notably  skilled  in  such  like  business,  a  staff  of  three  hands' 
length,  in  the  common  sight  of  them  all,  is  carried  by  the  speedy 
running  of  some  active  young  man  unto  that  village  or  city,  with 
this  command, — that  on  the  3.  4.  or  8.  day,  one,  two,  or  three,  or 
else  every  man  in  particular,  from  15  years  old,  shall  come  with 
his  arms,  and  expences  for  ten  or  twenty  days,  upon  pain  that  his 
or  their  houses  shall  be  burnt  (which  is  intimated  by  the  burning 
of  the  staff),  or  else  the  master  to  be  hanged  (which  is  signified 
by  the  cord  tied  to  it),  to  appear  speedily  on  such  a  bank,  or  field, 
or  valley,  to  hear  the  cause  he  is  called,  and  to  receive  orders  from 
the  yaid  provincial  governours  what  he  shall  do.     Wherefore  that 


268  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


messenger,  swifter  than  any  post  or  waggon,  having  clone  his 
commission,  comes  slowly  back  again,  bringing  a  token  with  him 
that  he  hath  done  all  legally ;  and  every  moment  one  or  another 
runs  to  another  village,  and  tells  those  places  what  they  must 
do."  ....  "The  messengers,  therefore,  of  the  footmen,  that  are 
to  give  warning  to  the  people  to  meet  for  the  battail,  ran  fiercely 
and  swiftly ;  for  no  snow,  nor  rain,  nor  heat  can  stop  them,  nor 
night  hold  them  ;  but  they  will  soon  run  the  race  they  undertake. 
The  first  messenger  tells  it  to  the  next  village,  and  that  to  the 
next ;  and  so  the  hubbub  runs  all  over  till  they  all  know  it  in  that 
stift  or  territory,  where,  when,  and  wherefore  they  must  meet." — 
Olaus  Magnus's  History  of  the  Goths,  Englished  by  J.  S.,  Lond. 
1658,  book  iv.  chap.  3,  4. 


NOTE  II. 

That  Monh,  of  savage  form  and  face. 

St.  iv.  p.  80. 

The  state  of  religion  in  the  middle  ages  afforded  considerable 
facihties  for  those  whose  mode  of  life  excluded  them  from  regular 
worship,  to  secure,  nevertheless,  the  ghostly  assistance  of  confess- 
ors, perfectly  willing  to  adapt  the  nature  of  their  dojctrine  to  the 
necessities  and  peculiar  circumstances  of  their  flock.  Robin  Hood, 
it  is  well  known,  had  his  celebrated  domestic  chaplain  Friar  Tuck. 
And  that  same  curtal  friar  was  probably  matched  in  manners  and 
appearance  by  the  ghostly  fathers  of  the  Tynedale  robbers,  who 
are  thus  described  in  an  excommunication  fulminated  against  their 
patrons  by  Richard  Fox,  Bishop  of  Durham,  tempore  Henrici  VIII. 
'♦  We  have  further  understood,  that  there  are  many  chaplains  in 
the  said  territories  of  Tynedale  and  Redesdale,  who  are  pubb'c 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD  269 


c.id  open  maintainers  of  concubinage,  irregular,  suspended,  excom- 
municated, and  interdicted  persons,  and  withal  so  utterly  ignorani 
of  letters,  that  it  has  been  found  by  those  who  objected  this  to 
them,  that  there  were  some  who,  having  celebrated  mass  for  ten 
years,  were  still  unable  to  read  the  sacramental  service.  We 
have  also  understood  there  are  persons  among  them  who,  although 
not  ordained,  do  take  upon  them  the  offices  of  priesthood  ;  and  in 
contempt  of  God,  celebrate  the  divine  and  sacred  rites,  and  ad- 
minister the  sacraments,  not  only  in  sacred  and  dedicated  places, 
but  in  those  which  are  profane  and  interdicted,  and  most  wretch- 
edly ruinous ;  they  themselves  being  attired  in  ragged,  torn,  and 
most  filthy  vestments,  altogether  unfit  to  be  used  m  divine  or  even 
in  temporal  offices.^  The  which  said  chaplains  do  administer 
sacraments  and  sacramertal  rites  to  the  aforesaid  manifest  and 
infamous  thieves,  robbers,  depredators,  receivers  of  stolen  goods, 
and  plunderers,  and  that  without  restitution,  or  intention  to  restore, 
as  evinced  by  the  fact ;  and  do  also  openly  admit  them  to  the  rites 
of  ecclesiastical  sepulchre,  without  exacting  security  for  restitution, 
although  they  are  prohibited  from  doing  so  by  the  sacred  canons  as 
well  as  by  the  institutes  of  the  saints  and  fathers.  All  which  infers 
the  heavy  peril  of  their  own  souls,  and  is  a  pernicious  example  to 
the  other  believers  in  Christ,  as  well  as  no  slight,  but  an  aggra- 
vated injury  to  the  numbers  despoiled  and  plundered  of  their 
goods,  gear,  herds,  and  chattels."^ 

To  this  lively  and  picturesque  description  of  the  confessors  and 
churchmen  of  predatory  tribes,  there  may  be  added  some  curious 

'  The  Monition  against  the  Robbers  of  Tynedale  and  Redesdale  with 
which  I  was  favoured  by  my  friend  Mr.  Surtees,  of  Mainsforth,  may  be 
found  in  the  original  Latin,  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Introduction -to  the 
Border  Minstrelsy,  No.  vii.  fourth  edition. 

z2 


270  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


particulars  respecting  the  priests  attached  to  the  several  septs  of 
native  Irish,  during  the  reign  of  dueen  Elizabeth.  These  friars 
had  indeed  to  plead,  that  the  incursions,  which  they  not  only  par- 
doned, but  even  encouraged,  were  made  upon  those  hostile  to 
them,  as  well  in  religion  as  from  national  antipathy.  But  by  Pro- 
testant writers  they  are  uniformly  alleged  to  be  the  chief  instru- 
ments of  Irish  insurrection,  the  very  well-spring  of  all  rebellion 
towards  the  English  government.  Lithgow,  the  Scottish  traveller, 
declares  the  Irish  wood-kerne,  or  predatory  tribes,  to  be  but  the 
hounds  of  their  hunting  priests,  who  directed  their  incursions 
by  their  pleasure,  partly  for  sustenance,  partly  to  gratify  ani- 
mosity, partly  to  foment  general  division,  and  always  for  the 
better  security  and  easier  domination  of  the  friars.*  Derrick,  the 
liveliness  and  minuteness  of  whose  descriptions  may  frequently 
apologize  for  his  doggerel  verses,  after  describing  an  Irish  feast, 
and  the  encouragement  given,  by  the  songs  of  the  bards,  to  its 
termination  in  an  incursion  upon  the  parts  of  the  country  more 
immediately  under  the  dominion  of  the  English,  records  the  no 
less  powerful  arguments  used  by  the  friar  to  excite  their  ani- 
mosity : 

"  And  more  t'  augment  the  flame 

and  rancour  of  their  harte. 
The  friar,  of  his  counsells  vile, 

to  rebelles  doth  imparte. 
Affirming  that  it  is 

an  almose  deede  to  God, 
To  make  the  English  subjects  taste 

the  Irish  rebells'  rodde. 


'  Lithgow's  Travels,  first  edit.  p.  431. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  271 


To  spoile,  to  kill,  to  buvne, 

this  frier's  counsell  is  ; 
And  for  the  doing  of  the  same, 

he  warrantes  heavenlie  blisse. 
He  tells  a  holie  tale  ; 

the  white  he  tournes  to  blacke  : 
And  through  the  pardons  in  his  male, 

he  workes  a  knavishe  knacke." 

The  Avreckful  invasion  of  a  part  of  the  English  pale  is  then 
described  with  some  spirit;  the  burning  of  houses,  driving  off 
cattle,  and  all  pertaining  to  such  predatory  inroads,  is  illustrated 
by  a  rude  cut.  The  defeat  of  the  Irish,  by  a  party  of  English 
soldiers  from  the  next  garrison,  is  then  commemorated,  and  in 
like  manner  adorned  with  an  engraving,  in  which  the  friar  is 
exhibited  mourning  over  the  slain  chieftain  ;  or,  as  the  rubric 
expresses  it, 

"  The   frier  then,  that  treacherous  knave,  with  ougli  ough-hone 
lament. 
To  see  his  cousin  Devill's-son  to  have  so  foul  event." 

The  matter  is  handled  at  great  length  in  the  text,  of  which  the 
foil  )wing  verses  are  more  than  sufficient  sampie  : 

"  The  frier  seying  this, 

laments  that  lucklesse  parte, 
And  curseth  to  the  pitte  of  hell 

the  death  man's  sturdie  harte  . 
Yet  for  to  quight  them  with 

the  frier  taketh  paine, 


«2  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


For  all  the  synnes  that  ere  he  did 

remission  to  obtaine. 
And  therefore  serves  his  booke, 

the  candell  and  the  bell ; 
But  thinke  you  that  such  apishe  toies 

bring  damned  souls  from  hell  ? 
It  'longs  not  to  my  parte 

infernall  things  to  knowe  ; 
But  I  beleve  till  later  dale, 

thei  rise  not  from  belowe. 
Yet  hope  that  friers  give 

to  this  rebellious  rout, 
If  that  their  soules  should  chaunce  in  ncilf 

to  bringe  them  quicklie  out, 
Doeth  make  them  lead  suche  lives, 

as  neither  God  nor  man. 
Without  revenge  for  their  desartes, 

permitte  or  sufler  can. 
Thus  friers  are  the  cause, 

the  fountain,  and  the  spring, 
Of  hurleburles  in  this  lande, 

of  eche  unhappie  thing. 
I'hei  cause  them  to  rebell 

against  their  soveraigne  queene  ; 
And  through  rebellion  often  tymes, 

their  lives  doe  vanish  cleane. 
So  as  by  friers  meanes, 

in  whom  all  follies  swimme, 
The  Irishe  karne  doe  often  lose 

the  life,  with  hedde  and  luixme." 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  27T! 


Ap  the  Irish  tribes,  and  those  of  the  Scottish  Highlands,  are 
much  mere  intimately  alHed  by  language,  manners,  dress,  and 
customs,  than  the  antiquaries  of  cither  country  have  been  wiUing 
to  admit,  I  flatter  myself  I  have  here  produced  a  strong  warrant 
for  the  character  sketched  in  the  text.* 

The  following  picture,  though  of  a  different  kind,  serves  to 
establish  the  existence  of  ascetic  religionists,  to  a  comparatively 
late  period,  in  the  Highlands  and  Western  Isles.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  simplicity  in  the  description,  for  which,  as  for  much 
similar  information,  I  am  obliged  to  Dr.  John  Martin,  v/ho  visited 
the  Hebrides  at  the  suggestion  of  Sir  Robert  Sibbald,  a  Scottish 
nntiquary  of  eminence,  and  early  in  the  eighteenth  century  pub- 
lished a  description  of  them,  Avhich  procured  him  admission 
into  the  Royal  Society.  He  died  in  London  about  1719.  His 
work  is  a  strange  mixture  of  learning,  observation,  and  gross 
credulity. 

"  I  remember,"  says  this  author,  "  I  have  seen  an  old  lay- 
capuchin  here  (in  the  island  of  Benbecula),  called  in  their  lan- 
guage Brahir-Bochf,  that  is.  Poor  Brother;  which  is  literally 
true  ;  for  he  answers  this  character,  having  nothing  but  what  is 
given  him  :  he  holds  himself  fully  satisfied  with  food  and  ri.iiaent, 
and  lives  in  as  great  simplicity  as  any  of  his  order;  his  diet  is 
very  mean,  and  he  drinks  only  fair  water:  his  habit  is  no  less 
mortifying  than  that  of  his  brethren  elsewhere ;  he  wears  a  shoi  t 
coat,  which  comes  no  farther  than  his  middle,  with  narrow- 
sleeves  like  a  waistcoat:  he  wears  a  plaid  beiore  it,  girt  about 

I  This  curious  picture  of  Ireland  was  inserted  by  the  author  in  the 
republication  of  Somers'  Tracts,  vol.  i.,  in  which  the  plates  have  been 
also  inserted,  from  the  only  impressions  known  to  exist,  belonging  to  the 
copy  in  the  Advocates'  Library.    See  Somers'  Tracts,  vol.  i.  pp.  591,  .594 


274  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


the  middle,  which  reaches  to  his  knee :  the  plaid  is  fastened  on 
his  breast  with  a  wooden  pin,  his  neck  bare,  and  his  feet  often  so 
too:  he  wears  a  hat  for  ornament,  and  the  string  about  it  is  a 
bit  of  a  fisher's  line,  made  of  horse-hair.  This  plaid  he  wears 
instead  of  a  gown  worn  by  those  of  his  order  in  other  countries. 
I  told  him  he  wanted  the  flaxen  girdle  that  men  of  his  ordvr 
usually  wear :  he  answered  me,  that  he  wore  a  leathern  one. 
which  was  the  same  thing.  Upon  the  matter,  if  he  is  spoke  to 
when  at  meat,  he  answers  again :  v;hicli  is  contrary  to  th^ 
custom  of  his  order.  This  poor  man  frequently  diverts  himself 
with  angling  of  trouts ;  he  lies  upon  straw,  and  has  no  bell  (as 
others  have)  to  call  him  to  his  devotion,  but  only  his  conscience, 
as  he  told  me." — Martin's  Description  of  the  Western  Islands, 
p.  83. 


NOTE  III. 

Of  Brian'' s  birth  strange  talcs  loere  told. 

St.  V.  p.  87. 

The  legend  which  follows  is  not  of  the  author's  invention.  It 
is  possible  he  may  differ  from  modern  critics  in  supposing  that 
the  records  of  human  superstition,  if  peculiar  to,  and  charac- 
teristic of,  the  country  in  which  the  scene  is  laid,  are  a  legitimate 
subject  of  poetry.  He  gives,  however,  a  ready  assent  to  the 
narrower  proposition,  which  condemns  all  attempts  of  an  irre- 
gular and  disordered  fancy  to  excite  terror,  bj'^  accumulating  a 
train  of  fantastic  and  incoherent  horrors,  whether  borrowed  from 
all  countries,  and  patched  upon  a  narrative  belonging  to  one 
which  knew  them  not,  or  derived  from  the  author's  own  ima- 
gination. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  375 


in  the  present  case,  therefore,  I  appeal  to  the  record  which  I 
have  transcribed,  with  the  variation  of  a  very  (ew  words,  from 
the  geographical  collections  made  by  the  Laird  of  Macfarlane.  1 
know  not  whether  it  be  necessary  to  remark,  that  the  miscella- 
neous concourse  of  youths  and  maidens  on  the  night,  and  on  the 
tipot  where  the  miracle  is  said  to  have  taken  place,  might,  in  an 
incredulous  age,  have  somewhat  diminished  the  wonder  which 
accompanied  the  conception  of  Gilli-Doir-Mag-revollich. 

"  There  is  hot  two  myles  from  Inverloghie,  the  church  of 
Kilraalee,  in  Loghyeld.  In  ancient  tymes  there  was  ane  church 
builded  upon  ane  hill,  w^hich  was  above  this  church,  which  doeth 
now  stand  in  this  toune ;  and  ancient  men  doeth  say,  that  there 
was  a  battell  foughten  on  ane  little  hill  not  the  tenth  part  of  a 
myle  from  this  church,  be  certaine  men  Avhich  they  did  not  know 
what  they  were.  And  long  tyme  thereafter,  certame  herds  of 
that  toune,  and  of  the  next  toune,  called  Unnatt,  both  wenches 
and  youthes,  did  on  a  tyme  conveen  with  others  on  that  hill; 
and  the  day  being  somewhat  cold,  did  gather  the  bones  of  dead 
men  that  were  slayne  long  tyme  before  in  that  place,  and  did 
make  a  fire  to  warm  them.  At  last  they  did  all  remove  from 
the  fire,  except  one  maid  or  wench,  which  was  verie  cold,  and 
she  did  remaine  there  for  a  space.  She  being  quietlie  her  alone, 
without  am  3  other  companie,  took  up  her  cloaths  above  her 
knees,  or  thereby,  to  warm  her ;  a  wind  did  come  and  caste  *he 
ashes  upon  her,  and  she  was  conceived  of  ane  man-chyld. 
Several  tymes  thereafter  she  was  verie  sick,  and  at  last  she  was 
knowne  to  be  with  chyld.  And  then  her  parents  did  ask  at  her 
the  matter  heirofT,  which  the  wench  could  not  weel  answer 
which,  way  to  satisfie  them.  At  last  she  resolved  them  with  ane 
answer.  As  fortune  fell  upon  her  concerning  this  marvellous 
miracle,  the  chyld  being  borne,  his  name  was  called  Gili-do'u 


276  NOTES    TO    CxVNTO    THIRD. 


Magh-revoUkh,  that  is  to  say,  the  Black  Child,  Son  to  the 
Bones.  So  called,  his  grandfather  sent  him  to  school],  and  so 
he  was  a  good  schoUar,  and  godlie.  He  did  build  this  church 
which   docth   now   stand  in  Lochyeld  called  Kilmalie." — Mac- 

KARLANE,  Ut  SliprU,  'u.   188. 


NOTE  IV. 

Yet  ne'er  again  to  braid  her  hair, 
The  virgin  snood  did  Alice  ivcar. 

St.  V.  p.  87. 

The  snood  or  riband,  with  which  a  Scottish  lass  braided  her 
hair,  had  an  emblematical  signification,  and  applied  to  her 
maiden  character.  It  was  exchanged  for  the  curcli,  toy,  or  coif, 
when  she  passed,  by  marriage,  into  the  matron  state.  Put  if  the 
damsel  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  pretensions  to  the  name  of 
maiden  without  gaining  a  right  to  that  of  matron,  she  was 
neither  permitted  to  use  the  snood  nor  advanced  to  the  graver 
dignity  of  the  curch.  In  old  Scottish  songs  there  occur  many  sly 
allusions  to  such  misfortune,  as  in  the  old  words  to  t!?^  populai" 
tune  of  "  Ower  the  muir  amang  the  heather  :" 

"  Down  amang  the  broom,  the  broom, 
Down  amang  the  broom,  my  dearie. 
The  lassie  lost  her  silken  snood. 

That  gard  her  greet  till  she  was  wearie." 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  277 


NOTE   V. 

Till  desert  gave  him  visioris  ii>Ud, 
Such  as  might  suit  the  spectre'' s  child. 

St.  vii.  p.  89. 

In  adopting  the  legend  concerning  the  birth  of  the  Foundei 
of  the  Church  of  Kilmallie,  the  author  has  endeavoured  to  trace 
the  effects  which  such  a  belief  was  likely  to  produce,  in  a  barba- 
rous age,  on  the  person  to  whom  it  related.  It  seems  likely  that 
he  must  have  become  a  fanatic  or  an  impostor,  or  that  mixture 
of  both  whicli  forms  a  more  frequent  character  than  either  of 
them,  as  existing  separately.  In  trut'h,  mad  persons  are  fre- 
quently more  anxious  to  impress  upon  others  a  faith  in  their 
visions,  than  they  are  themselves  confirmed  in  their  reality  :  as, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  difficult  for  the  most  cool-headed  impostor 
long  to  personate  an  enthusiast,  without  in  some  degree  believing 
what  he  is  so  eager  to  have  believed.  It  was  a  natural  attribute 
of  such  a  character  as  the  supposed  hermit,  that  he  should  credit 
the  numerous  superstitions  with  which  the  minds  of  ordinary 
Highlanders  are  almost  always  imbued.  A  few  of  these  are 
slightly  alluded  lo  in  this  stanza.  The  River  Demon,  or  River- 
horse,  for  it  is  that  form  which  he  commonly  assumes,  is  tht- 
Kelpy  of  the  Lowlands,  an  evil  and  malicious  spirit,  delighting 
to  forebode  and  witness  calamity.  He  frequents  most  Highland 
lakes  and  rivers;  and  one  of  his  most  memorable  exploits  was 
performed  on  the  banks  of  Loch  Vennachar,  in  the  very  district 
which  fcrms  the  scene  of  our  action;  it  consisted  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  funeral  procession,  with  all  its  attendants.     1  he  "  noon- 


278  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


tide  hag,"  called  iti  Gaelic  Glas-Ilch,  a  tail,  emaciated,  gigantic 
female  figuie,  is  supposed  in  particular  to  haunt  the  district  of 
Knoidart.  A  goblin  dressed  in  antique  armour,  and  having  one 
hand  covered  with  blood,  called,  from  that  circumstance,  Lftam- 
Dearg,  or  Red-hand,  is  a  tenant  of  the  forests  of  Glenmore  and 
Rothemurcus.  Other  spirits  of  the  desert,  all  frightful  in  shape, 
and  malignant  in  disposition,  are  believed  to  frequent  different 
mountains  and  glens  of  the  Highlands,  where  any  unusual  ap- 
pearance, produced  by  mist,  or  the  strange  lights  that  are  some- 
times thrown  upon  particular  objects,  never  fails  to  present  an 
apparition  to  the  imagination  of  the  solitary  and  melanchoiy 
mountaineer. 


NOTE  VI. 

The  fatal  Ben-Slue's  boding  scream. 

St.  vii.  p.  90. 

Most  great  famiUes  in  the  Highlands  were  supposed  to  have  a 
tutelar,  or  rather  a  domestic  spirit,  attached  to  them,  who  took 
an  interest  in  their  prosperity,  and  intimated,  by  its  wailings,  any 
approaching  disaster.  That  of  Grant  of  Grant  was  called  May 
Moidlach,  and  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  girl,  who  had  her  arm 
covered  with  hair.  Grant  of  Rothemurcus  had  an  attendant 
called  Bodach-an-dim,  or  the  Ghost  of  the  Hill :  and  many 
other  examples  might  be  mentioned.  The  Ben-Shie  implies  the 
female  Fairy,  whose  lamentations  were  often  supposed  to  precede 
tjie  death  of  a  chieftain  of  particular  families.  When  she  is 
visible,  it  is  in  the  form  of  an  old  woman,  with  a  blue  mantle, 
ani   streaming   hair.      A   superstition    of  the    same   kind  is,   I 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  279 


believe,  universally  received  by  the  inferior  ranks  of  the  native 
Irish. 

The  death  of  the  head  of  a  Highland  family  is  also  sometimes 
supposed  to  be  announced  by  a  chain  of  lights  of  different  colours, 
called  Dr'eug,  or  death  of  the  Druid.  The  direction  which  it 
takes  marks  the  place  of  the  funeral. 


NOTE  VII. 

Along  Benharrow^s  shingly  side, 
WJiere  mortal  horseman  ne'er  might  ride. 

St.  vii.  p.  90. 

A  presage  of  the  kind  alluded  to  in  the  text  is  still  believed  tc 
announce  death  to  the  ancient  Highland  family  of  M'Lean  of 
Lochbuy.  The  spirit  of  an  ancestor  slain  in  battle  is  heard  to 
gallop  along  a  stony  bank,  and  then  to  ride  thrice  around  the 
family  residence,  ringing  his  fairy  bridle,  and  thus  intimating 
the  approaching  calamity.  How  easily  the  eye  as  well  as  the 
ear  may  be  deceived  upon  such  occasions,  is  evident  from  the 
stories  of  armies  in  the  air,  and  other  spectral  phenomena  with 
Avhich  history  abounds.  Such  an  apparition  is  said  to  have  been 
witnessed  upon  the  side  of  Southerfell  mountain,  between  Penrith 
and  Keswick,  upon  the  2''d  June,  1744,  by  two  persons,  William 
Lancaster  of  Blakehills,  and  Daniel  Stricket  his  servant,  whose 
attestation  to  the  fact,  with  a  full  account  of  ihe  apnaruion,  dated 
the  21st  July,  1745,  is  printed  in  Clarke's  Survey  of  the  Lakes. 
The  apparition  consisted  of  several  troops  of  horse  moving  in 
regular  order,  with  a  steady  rapid  motion,  making  a  curved 
sweep  around  the  fell,  and  seeming  to  the  spectators  to  disappear 


280 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


over  the  ridge  of  the  mountain.  Many  persons  witnessed  iJiis 
phenomenon,  and  observed  the  last  or  last  but  one,  of  the  sup- 
posed troop,  occasionally  leave  his  rank,  and  pass,  at  a  gaiiop,  to 
the  front,  when  he  resumed  the  same  steady  pace.  1'his  curious 
appearance,  making  the  necessary  allowance  for  imagination, 
may  be  perhaps  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  optical  deception. — 
Survey  of  the  Lakes,  p.  23. 

Supernatural  intimations  of  approaching  fate  are  not,  I  believe, 
confined  to  Highland  families.  Howell  mentions  having  seen  at 
a  lapidary's,  in  1632,  a  monumental  stone,  prepared  for  four 
persons  of  the  name  of  Oxenham,  before  the  death  of  each  of 
whom,  the  inscription  stated  a  white  bird  to  have  appeared  and 
fluttered  around  the  bed,  while  the  patient  was  in  the  last  agony. 
Familiar  Letters,  edit.  1726,  247.  Glanville  mentions  one 
family,  the  members  of  which  received  this  solemn  sign  by 
music,  the  sound  of  which  floated  from  the  family  residence,  and 
seemed  to  die  in  a  neighbouring  Avood  ;  another,  that  of  Captain 
Wood,  of  Bampton,  to  whom  the  signal  was  given  by  knocking. 
But  the  most  remarkable  instance  of  the  kind  occurs  in  the  IVIS, 
Memoirs  of  Lady  Fanshaw,  so  exemplary  for  her  conjugal  affec- 
tion. Her  husband,  Sir  Richard,  and  she,  chanced  during  their 
abode  in  Ireland  to  visit  a  friend,  the  head  of  a  sept,  who  resided 
in  his  ancient  baronial  castle,  surrounded  with  a  moat.  At  mid- 
night, she  was  awakened  by  a  ghastly  and  supernatural  scream, 
and  looking  out  of  bed,  beheld,  by  the  moonlight,  a  female  face, 
and  part  of  the  form,  hovering  at  the  window.  The  distance 
from  the  ground,  as  well  as  the  circumstance  of  the  moat,  ex- 
cluded the  possibility  that  what  she  beheld  was  of  tliis  world. 
The  face  was  that  of  a  young  and  rather  handsome  woman,  but 
pale,  and  the  hair,  which  was  reddish,  was  loose  and  dishevelled 
The  dress.,  which  Lady  Fanshaw's  terror  did  not  prevent  her 


NOTES    TO    CAiNTO    THIRD.  281 


remarking  accurately,  was  tliat  of  the  ancient  Irish.  This  appa- 
rition continued  to  exhibit  itseh'  for  some  time,  and  then  vanished 
with  two  shrieks  similar  to  that  which  had  first  excited  Lady 
Fanshaw's  attention.  In  the  morning,  with  infinite  terror,  she 
communicated  to  her  host  Avhat  she  had  witnessed,  and  found 
him  prepared  not  only  to  credit  but  to  account  for  the  apparition. 
"A  near  relation  of  my  family,"  said  he,  "expired  last  night  in 
this  castle.  We  disguised  our  certain  expectation  of  the  event 
from  you,  lest  it  should  throw  a  cloud  over  the  cheerful  reception 
which  was  your  due.  Now,  before  such  an  event  happens  in 
this  family  and  castle,  the  female  spectre  whom  you  have  seen 
always  is  visible.  She  is  believed  to  be  the  spirit  of  a  woman  of 
inferior  rank,  whom  one  of  my  ancestors  degraded  himself  bv 
marrying,  and  whom  afterwards,  to  expiate  the  dishonour  done 
his  family,  he  caused  to  be  drowned  in  the  castle  moat." 


NOTE  VIII. 

Whose  parents  in  Inch-Cailliach  wave 
Their  shadows  o^er  Clan-Mpine' s  grave. 

St.  viii,  p.  91. 

Inch-Cailliach,  the  Isle  of  Nuns,  or  of  Old  Women,  is  a  most 
beautiful  island  at  the  lower  extremity  of  Loch-Lomond.  The 
church  belonging  to  the  former  nunnery  Avas  long  used  as  the 
place  of  worship  for  the  parish  of  Buchanan,  but  scarcely  any 
vestiges  of  it  now  remain.  The  burial-ground  continues  to  be 
used,  and  contains  the  family  places  of  sepulture  of  several 
neighbouring  clans.  The  monuments  of  the  lairds  of  Macgregor. 
and  of  other  families,  claiming  a  descent  from  the  old  Scottish 
King  Alpine,  are   most  remarkable.      The  Highlanders  are   as 

2a2 


283  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


jealous  of  their  rights  of  sepulture,  as  may  be  expected  from  a 
people  whose  whole  laws  and  government,  if  clanship  can  be 
called  so,  turned  upon  the  single  principle  of  famil)^  descent. 
"May  his  ashes  be  scattered  on  the  water,"  was  one  of  the 
deepest  and  most  solemn  imprecations  which  they  used  against 
an  enemv 


NOTE  IX. 

The  dun  deer\s  hide 

On  fleeter  foot  ivas  never  tied. 

St.  xiii.  p.  95. 

The  present  brogue  of  the  Highlanders  is  made  of  half-dried 
leather,  with  holes  to  admit  and  let  out  the  water ;  for  walking 
the  moors  dry-shod  is  a  matter  altogether  out  of  the  question. 
The  ancient  buskin  was  still  ruder,  being  made  of  undressed 
deer's  hide,  with  the  hair  outwards,  a  circumstance  which  pro- 
cured the  Highlanders  the  well-known  epithet  of  Bed-shanks. 
The  process  is  very  accurately  described  by  one  Elder  (himself 
a  Highlander),  in  the  project  for  a  union  between  England  and 
Scotland,  addressed  to  Henry  VIIL  "We  go  a  hunting,  and 
after  that  we  have  slain  red  deer,  we  flay  off  the  skin  by  and  by, 
and  setting  of  our  bare  foot  on  the  inside  thereof,  for  want  of 
cunning  snoemakers,  by  your  grace's  pardon,  we  play  the 
cobblers,  compassing  and  measuring  so  much  thereof  as  shall 
reach  up  to  our  ankles,  pricking  the  upper  part  thereof  with 
holes,  that  tne  water  may  repass  where  it  enters,  and  stretching  it 
up  with  a  strong  thong  of  the  same  above  our  said  ankles.  So, 
and  please  your  noble  grace,  we  make  our  shoes.     Therefore,  we 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  283 


using  such  manner  of  shoes,  the  rough  hairy  side  outwards,  in 
your  grace's  dominions  of  England,  we  be  called  Rough-footed 
Scots" — Pinkerton's  History,  vol.  ii.  p.  397. 


NOTE  X. 

The  dismal  Coronach. 

St.  XV.  p.  98. 

The  Coronach  of  the  Highlanders,  like  the  Ululatus  of  the 
Romans,  and  the  Vluloo  of  the  Irish,  was  a  wild  expression  of 
lamentation  poured  forth  by  the  mourners  over  the  body  of  a 
departed  friend.  When  the  words  of  it  were  articulate,  they 
expressed  the  praises  of  the  deceased,  and  the  loss  the  clan  would 
sustain  by  his  death.  The  following  is  a  lamentation  of  this 
kind,  literally  translated  from  the  Gaelic,  to  some  of  the  ideas  of 
which  the  text  stands  indebted.  The  tune  is  so  popular,  that  it 
has  since  become  the  war-march,  or  Gathering,  of  the  clan 


Coronach  on  Sir  Lauchlan,  Chief  of  Maclean. 

Which  of  all  the  Seanachies 
Can  trace  thy  line  from  the  root,  up  to  Paradise, 
^But  Macvuirih,  the  son  of  Fergus  ? 
No  sooner  had  thine  ancient  stately  tree 
Taken  firm  root  in  Albin, 
Than  one  of  thy  forefathers  fell  at  Harlaw. — 
'Twas  then  we  lost  a  chief  of  deathless  name. 


284  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


'Tis  no  base  weed — no  planted  tree, 

Nor  a  seedling  of  last  autumn  ; 

Nor  a  sapling  planted  at  Beltain  ;* 

Wide,  Avide  around  were  spread  its  lofty  brancho     - 

But  the  topmost  bough  is  lowly  laid  ! 

Thou  hast  forsaken  us  before  Sawaine.^ 

Thy  dwelling  is  the  winter  house  ; 
Loud,  sad,  and  mighty  is  thy  death-song ! 
Oh  !  courteous  champion  of  Montrose  ! 
Oh  !  stately  warrior  of  the  Celtic  Isles  ! 
Thou  shalt  buckle  thy  harness  on  no  more  ! 

The  coronach  has  for  some  years  past  been  superseded  at 
funerals  by  the  use  of  the  bagpipe,  and  that  also  is,  like  many 
other  Highland  peculiarities,  falling  into  disuse,  unless  in  remote 
districts. 


NOTE  XI. 

Benledi  saw  the  Cross  of  Fire, 

It  glanced  like  lightning  itp  Strath-Ire. 

St.  xix.  p.  102. 

A  glance  at  the  provincial  map  of  Perthshire,  or  at  any  large 
map  of  Scotland,  will  trace  the  progress  of  the  signal  through 
the  small  district  of  lakes  and  mountains,  which,  in  exercise  of 
my  poetical  privilege,  I  have  subjected  to  the  authority  of  my 
imaginary  chieftain  ;  and  which,  at  the  period  of  my  romance, 

'  Bel's  fire,  o-  Whitsunday.  ^  Halloween. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  285 


was  really  occupied  by  a  clan  who  claimed  a  descent  fron; 
Alpine,  a  clan  the  most  unfortunate,  and  most  persecuted,  btl 
neither  the  least  distinguished,  least  powerful,  or  least  brave  of 
the  tribes  of  Gael. 

Sliocli  non  rioghridh  duchaisach 
Bha-shios  an  Dun  Staiobhinish 
Aig  an  roubh  crun  na  Halba  othus 
'Stag  a  cheil  duchas  fast  ris. 

The  first  stage  of  the  Fiery  Cross  is  to  Duncraggan,  a  place 
near  the  Brigg  of  Turk,  where  a  short  stream  divides  Loch- 
Achray  from  Loch-Vennachar.  From  thence  it  passes  towards 
Callender,  and  then,  turning  to  the  left  up  the  pass  of  Lennie,  is 
consigned  to  Norman  at  the  chapel  of  Saint  Bride,  which  stood 
on  a  small  and  romantic  knoll  in  the  middle  of  the  valley,  called 
Strath-Ire.  Tombea  and  Arnandave,  or  Ardmandave,  are  names 
of  places  in  the  vicinity.  The  alarm  is  then  supposed  to  pass 
along  the  lake  of  Lubnaig,  and  through  the  various  glens  in  the 
district  of  Balquidder,  including  the  neighbouring  tracts  of  Glen- 
fmlas  and  Strathgartney. 


NOTE  XII. 

Not  faster  o^er  thy  heathery  braes, 
Balquidder,  speeds  the  midnight  ulcz:;. 

3t.  xxiv.  p.  106. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  inform  the  southern  reader,  that  the 
heath  on  the  Scottish  moorlands  is  often  set  fire  to,  that  the 
sheep  may  have  the  advantage  of  the  young  herbage  produced  in 


28« 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


room  of  the  to-jgh  old  heather  plants.  This  custom,  (execrated 
by  sportsmen)  produces  occasionally  the  most  beautiful  nocturnal 
appearances,  similar  almost  to  the  discharge  of  a  volcano.  The 
simile  is  not  new  to  poetry.  The  charge  of  a  warrior,  in  the  fine 
ballad  of  Hardyknute,  is  said  to  be  "  like  a  fire  to  heather  set." 


NOTE  xiir. 


By  his  chieftain'' s  hand. 

St.  xxiv.  p.  108. 

The  deep  and  implicit  respect  paid  by  the  Highland  clansmen 
to  their  chief,  rendered  this  both  a  common  and  a  solemn  oath. 
In  other  respects,  they  were  like  most  savage  nations,  capricious 
in  their  ideas  concerning  the  obligatory  power  of  oaths.  One 
solemn  mode  of  swearing  was  by  kissing  the  dirk,  imprecating 
upon  themselves  death  by  that,  or  a  similar  weapon,  if  they 
broke  their  vow.  But  for  oaths  in  the  usual  form,  they  are  said 
to  have  had  little  respect.  As  for  the  reverence  due  to  the  chief, 
it  may  be  guessed  from  the  follov/ing  odd  example  of  a  Highland 
point  of  honour : 

"  The  clan  whereto  the  above-mentioned  tribe  belongs  is  the 
only  one  I  have  heard  of,  which  is  without  a  chief:  that  is,  being 
divided  into  families,  under  several  chieftains,  without  any  parti- 
cular patriarch  of  the  whole  name.  And  this  is  a  great  reproach, 
as  may  appear  from  an  affair  that  fell  out  at  my  table,  in  thy 
Highlands,  between  one  of  that  name  and  a  Cameron.  The 
provocation  given  by  the  latter  was,  '  Name  your  chief.'  The 
return  of  it  at  once  was,  'You  are  a  fool.'  They  went  out  next 
morning,  but  having  early  notice  of  it,  I  sent  a  small  party  of 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  28? 


soldiers  after  them,  which,  in  all  probability,  prevented  i-ome 
barbarous  mischief  that  might  have  ensued ;  for  the  chiefless 
Highlander,  who  is  himself  a  petty  chieftain,  was  going  to  the 
place  appointed  with  a  smallsword  and  pistol,  whereas  the 
Cameron  (an  old  man)  took  with  him  only  his  broadsword, 
according  to  agreement. 

"  When  all  was  over,  and  I  had,  at  least  seemingly,  recon 
ciled  them,  I  was  told  the  words,  of  which  I  seemed  to  think  but 
slightly,  were,  to  one  of  the  clan,  the  greatest  of  all  provoca- 
tions."— Ldters  from  the  North  of  Scotland,  vol,  ii.  p,  221. 


NOTE  XIV. 

Coir-nan-  Uriskin. 

St.  XXV.  p.  103. 

This  is  a  very  steep  and  most  romantic  hollow  in  the  mountam 
of  Ben-venue,  overhanging  the  southeastern  extremity  of  Loch- 
Katrine.  It  is  surrounded  with  stupendous  rocks,  and  over- 
shadowed with  birch  trees,  mingled  with  oaks,  the  spontaneous 
production  of  the  mountain,  even  where  its  clifTs  appear  denuded 
of  soil.  A  dale  in  so  wild  a  situation,  and  amid  a  people  whose 
genius  bordered  on  the  romantic,  did  not  remain  without  appro- 
priate deities.  The  name  literally  implies  the  Corri,  or  Den,  ol 
the  Wild  or  Shaggy  Men.  Perhaps  this,  as  conjectured  by  Mr. 
Alexander  Campbell,^  may  have  originally  only  implied  its 
being  the  haunt  of  a  ferocious  banditti.  But  tradition  has 
ascribed  to  the  Urish,  who  gives  name  to  the  cavern,  a  figure 


Journey  from  Edinburgh,  1802,  p.  109. 


288  NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


between  a  goat  and  a  man  ;  in  short,  however  much  the  classical 
reader  may  be  startled,  precisely  that  of  the  Grecian  Satyr. 
The  Uri^k  seems  not  to  have  inherited,  with  the  form,  the  petu- 
lance of  the  sylvan  deity  of  the  classics :  his  occupations,  on  the 
contrary,  resembled  those  of  Milton's  Lubbar  Fiend,  or  of  the 
Scottish  Brownie,  though  he  differed  from  both  in  name  and 
appearance.  "The  Urisks,'"  says  Dr.  Graham,  "were  a  sort  of 
lubberly  supernaturals,  who,  like  the  Brownies,  could  be  gained 
over  by  kind  attention,  to  perform  the  drudgery  of  the  farm,  and 
It  was  believed  that  many  of  the  families  in  the  Highlands  had 
one  of  the  order  attached  to  it.  They  were  supposed  to  be  dis- 
persed over  the  Highlands,  each  in  his  own  wild  recess,  but  the 
solemn  stated  meetings  of  the  order  were  regularly  held  in  this 
cave  of  Ben-venue.  This  current  superstition,  no  doubt,  alludes 
to  some  circumstance  in  the  ancient  history  of  this  country." — 
Scenery  on  the  Southern  Confines  of  Perthshire.     180G.  p.  19. 

It  must  be  owned  that  the  Coir,  or  Den,  does  not,  in  its  pre- 
sent state,  meet  our  ideas  of  a  subterranean  grotto,  or  cave, 
being  only  a  small  and  narrow  cavity,  among  huge  fragments  of 
rocks,  rudely  piled  together.  But  such  a  scene  is  liable  to  con- 
vulsions of  nature,  which  a  Lowlander  cannot  estimate,  and 
which  may  have  choked  up  what  was  originally  a  cavern.  At 
least  the  name  and  tradition  warrant  the  author  of  a  fictitious  lale, 
to  assert  its  having  been  such  at  the  remote  period  in  v^hich  thid 
bcene  is  laid. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  289 


NOTE  XV. 

The  tvild  pass  of  Beal-nam-Bo. 

St.  xxvii.  p.  110. 

Bealach-nam-Bo,  or  the  pass  of  cattle,  is  a  most  magnificent 
glade,  overhung  with  aged  birch  trees,  a  little  higher  up  the 
mountain  than  the  Coir-nau-Uriskin,  treated  of  in  the  last  note. 
The  whole  composes  the  most  sublime  piece  of  scenery  that 
imagination  can  conceive. 


NOTE  XVL 

A  single  page,  to  hear  his  sioord, 
Alone  attended  on  his  lord. 

St.  xxvii.  p.  111. 

A  Highland  chief  being  as  absolute  in  his  patriarchal  autho- 
rity as  any  prince,  had  a  corresponding  number  of  officers 
attached  to  his  person.  He  had  his  body-guards,  called  Luicht- 
tuch,  picked  from  his  clan  for  strength,  activity,  and  entire 
devotion  to  his  person.  These,  according  to  their  deserts,  were 
sure  to  share  abundantly  in  the  rude  profusion  of  his  hospitality. 
It  is  recorded,  for  example,  by  tradition,  that  Allan  Mac  Lean, 
chief  of  that  clan,  happened  upon  a  time  to  hear  one  of  these 
favourite  retainers  observe  to  his  comrade,  that  their  chief  grew 
old.  "  Whence  do  you  infer  that  ?"  replied  the  other.  "  When 
was  it,"  rejoined  the  first,  "  that  a  soldier  of  Allan's  was  obliged, 
as  I  am  now,  not  only  to  eat  the  flesh  from  this  bone,  but  even 

2B 


290 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD. 


10  tear  off  the  inner  skin,  or  filament .'"  The  hint  was  sufficient 
and  Mac  Lean  next  morning,  to  reheve  his  followers  from  such 
dire  necessity,  undertook  an  inroad  on  the  mainland,  the  ravage 
of  which  altogether  effaced  the  memory  of  his  former  expeditions 
for  the  like  purpose. 

Our  officer  of  Engineers,  so  often  quoted,  has  given  us  a  dis- 
tinct list  of  the  domestic  officers,  who,  independent  of  Lidchf- 
tach,  or  gardes  de  corps,  belonged  to  the  estabhshment  of  a 
Highland  chief.  These  are,  1.  The  Henchman.  (See  these 
notes,  page  265.)  2.  The  Bard.  (See  p.  244.)  8.  Bladier,  or 
spokesman.  4.  Gillie-more,  or  sword-bearer,  alluded  to  in  tlie 
text.  5.  GilUe-Casfiuc-',  who  carried  the  chief,  if  on  foot,  over 
the  fords.  6.  Gillie-comstraine,  who  leads  the  chief's  horse. 
7.  Gillie -Thrusha-narinsh,  the  baggage-man.  8.  The  Piper. 
9.  The  piper's  gillie,  or  attendant  Avho  carries  the  bagpipe.' 
i^llhough  this  appeared,  naturally  enough,  very  ridiculous  to  an 
English  officer,  who  considered  the  master  of  such  a  retinue  as 
no  more  than  an  English  gentleman  of  500/.  a  year,  yet,  in  the 
circumstance  of  the  chief,  whose  strength  and  importance  con- 
sisted in  the  number  and  attachment  of  his  followers,  it  was  of 
the  last  consequence,  in  point  of  policy,  to  have  in  his  gift  sub- 
ordinate offices,  which  called  immediately  round  his  person  those 
who  were  most  devoted  to  him,  and,  being  of  value  in  their  esti- 
mation, were  also  the  means  of  rewardin;-  ;hem. 


Letters  from  Scotland,  vol.  ii.  p.  158. 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   FOUETH. 


NOTE  I. 


The  Taghairm  ccilTd,  by  which,  afar, 
Our  sires  foresaw  the  events  ofivar. 

St.  iv.  p.  118 

The  Highlanders,  like  all  rude  people,  had  various  supersti- 
tious modes  of  inquiring  into  futurity.  One  of  the  most  noted 
was  the  Taghairm,  mentioned  in  the  text.  A  person  was 
wrapped  up  in  the  skin  of  a  newly-slain  bullock,  and  deposited 
beside  a  waterfall,  or  at  the  bottom  of  a  precipice,  or  in  some 
other  strange,  wild,  and  unusual  situation,  where  the  scenery 
around  him  suggested  nothing  but  objects  of  horror.  In  this 
situation  he  revolved  in  his  mind  the  question  ])roposed,  and 
whatever  was  impressed  upon  him  by  his  exalted  imagination, 
passed  for  the  inspiration  of  the  disimbodied  spirits,  who  haunt 
these  desolate  recesses.  In  some  of  the  Hebrides,  they  attributed 
the  same  oracular  power  to  a  large  black  stone  by  the  sea-shore, 
which  they  approached  with  certain  solemnities,  and  considered 
the  first  fancy  which  came  into  their  own  minds  after  they  did 
so,  to  be  the  undoubted  dictate  of  the  tutelar  deity  of  ths  stone, 
and  as  such  to  be,  if  possible,  punctually  complied  with.     Martin 


293  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH. 


has  recorded  the  follow'ng-  curious  modes  of  Highland  augury, 
in  which  the  Taghairm,  and  its  effects  upon  the  person  who  was 
subjected  to  it,  may  serv"  to  illustrate  the  text. 

"  It  was  an  ordinary  thing  among  the  over-curious  to  consult 
an  invisible  oracle,  concerning  the  fate  of  families  and  battles, 
&c.  This  was  performed  three  different  ways  :  the  first  was  by 
a  company  of  men,  one  of  whom,  being  detached  by  lot,  was 
afterwards  carried  to  a  riv^r,  which  was  the  boundary  between 
two  villages ;  four  of  the  company  laid  hold  on  him,  and,  having 
shut  his  eyes,  they  took  him  by  the  legs  and  arms,  and  then, 
tossing  him  to  and  again,  struck  his  hips  with  force  against  the 
bank.  One  of  them  cried  out.  What  is  it  you  have  got  here  ? 
another  answers,  A  log  of  birch- wood.  The  other  cries  again, 
Let  his  invisible  friends  appear  from  all  quarters,  and  let  them 
relieve  him  by  giving  an  answer  to  our  present  di'mands  ;  and  in 
a  few  minutes  after,  a  number  of  little  creatures  came  from  the 
sea,  who  answered  the  question,  and  disappeared  suddenly.  The 
man  was  then  set  at  liberty,  and  they  all  returned  home,  to  take 
their  measures  according  to  the  prediction  of  their  false  prophets ; 
but  the  poor  deluded  fools  were  abused,  for  the  answer  was  still 
ambiguous.  This  was  always  practised  in  the  night,  and  may 
literally  be  called  the  works  of  darkness. 

"I  had  an  account  from  the  most  intelligent  and  judicious 
men  in  the  Isle  of  Skie,  that  about  sixty-two  years  ago,  the 
oracle  was  thus  consulted  only  once,  and  that  was  in  the  parish 
of  Kilmartin,  on  the  east  side,  by  a  wicked  and  mischievous 
race  of  people,  who  are  now  extinguished  both  root  and  branch. 

"  The  second  way  of  consulting  the  oracle  was  by  a  party  of 
men,  who  first  retired  to  solitary  places,  remote  from  any  house, 
nnd  there  they  singled  out  one  of  their  number,  and  wrapt  him 
in  a  big  cow's  hide,  which  they  folded  about   him;    his  whole 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH.  293 


'^ndy  was  covered  wiih  it,  except  his  head,  and  so  left  in  th-s 
;iosture  all  night,  until  his  invisible  friends  relieved  him,  by 
LHving  a  proper  answer  to  the  question  in  hand ;  which  he 
received,  as  he  fancied,  from  several  persons  that  he  found  about 
nim  all  that  time.  His  consorts  returned  to  him  at  the  break  of 
day,  and  then  he  communicated  his  news  to  them ;  which  often 
proved  fatal  to  those  concerned  in  such  unwarrantable  inquiries. 

"  There  was  a  third  way  of  consulting,  which  was  a  confirma- 
tion of  the  second  above-mentioned.  The  same  company  who 
put  the  man  into  the  hide,  took  a  live  cat,  and  put  him  on  a  spit ; 
one  of  the  number  was  employed  to  turn  the  spit,  and  one  of  his 
consorts  inquired  of  him,  What  are  you  doing?  he  answered,  I 
roast  this  cat  until  his  friends  answer  the  question  ;  which  must 
be  the  same  that  was  proposed  by  the  man  shut  up  in  the  hide. 
And  afterwards,  a  very  big  cat^  comes  attended  by  a  number  of 
lesser  cats,  desiring  to  relieve  the  cat  turned  upon  the  spit,  an»l 
then  answers  the  question.  If  this  answer  proved  the  same  that 
was  given  to  the  man  in  the  hide,  then  it  was  taken  as  a  con- 
firmation of  the  other,  which,  in  this  case,  was  believed  infallible. 

"  Mr.  Alexander  Cooper,  present  minister  of  North  Vist,  told 
me  that  one  John  Erach,  in  the  Isle  of  Lewis,  assured  him,  it 
was  his  fate  to  have  been  led  by  his  curiosity  with  some  who 
consulted  this  oracle,  and  that  he  was  a  night  within  the  hide,  as 
above-mentioned ;  during  which  time  he  felt  and  heard  such 
ttrrible  things,  that  he  could  not  express  *.hem  ;  the  impression 
it  made  on  him  was  such  as  could  never  go  off,  and  he  said  for 
a  thousand  worlds  he  would  never  again  be  concerned  in  the  like 

'  The  reader  may  have  met  with  the  story  of  the  "  King  of  the  Cats," 
in  Lord  Littleton's  Letters.  It  is  well  known  in  the  Highlands  as  d 
sursery  tale. 

2b  a 


294  NOTES    TO    CAx\TO    FOURTH. 


performance,  for  this  had  disordered  him  to  a  high  degree.  He 
confessed  it  ingenuousl}'',  and  with  an  air  of  great  remorsr,  and 
seemed  to  be  very  penitent  under  a  just  sense  of  so  great  a 
crime ;  he  declared  this  about  five  years  since,  and  is  still  living 
in  the  Lewis,  for  any  thing  I  know." — Description  of  t/te 
JVestern  Isles,  p.  110.  See  also  Pennant's  Scottish  Tour,  vol. 
ii.  p.  361. 


NOTE  II. 

The  choicest  of  the  prey  ive  had, 

THien  swept  our  merry-men  Gallangad. 

St.  iv.  p.  119, 

I  know  not  if  it  be  worth  observing,  that  this  passage  is  taken 
almost  literally  from  the  mouth  of  an  old  Highland  Kern,  or 
Ketteran,  as  they  were  called.  He  used  to  narrate  the  merry 
doings  of  the  good  old  time  when  he  was  a  follower  of  Rob  Roy 
Macgregor.  This  leader,  on  one  occasion,  thought  proper  to 
make  a  descent  upon  the  lower  part  of  the  Loch-Lomond  district, 
and  summoned  all  the  heritors  and  farmers  to  meet  at  the  Kirk 
of  Drymen,  to  pay  him  black-mail,  i.  e.,  tribute  of  forbearance 
and  protection.  As  this  invitation  was  supported  by  a  band  of 
thirty  or  forty  stout  fellows,  only  one  gentleman,  an  ancestor,  if 
I  mistake  not,  of  the  present  Mr.  Grahame  of  Gartmore,  ventured 
to  decline  compliance.  Rob  Roy  instantly  swept  his  land  of  all 
he  could  drive  away,  and  among  the  spoil  was  a  bull  of  the  old 
Scottish  wild  breed,  whose  ferocity  occasioned  great  plague  to 
ihe  Ketterans.  "But  ere  we  reached  the  Row  of  Dennan,' 
said   the   old    man,   "a  child  might   have  scratched  his  ears.' 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.      295 


The  circumstance  is  a  minute  one,  but  it  paints  tiie  times  when 
the  poor  beeve  was  compelled 

To  hoof  it  o'er  as  many  weary  miles, 

With  goading  pilvemen  hollowing  at  his  heels, 

As  e'er  the  bravest  antler  of  the  woods. — EthiunlcL 


NOTE  III. 

That  huge  cliff,  ivhose  ample  verge 

Tradition  calls  the  Heroes  Targe. 

St.  V.  p.  119. 

There  is  a  rock  so  named  in  the  forest  of  Glenfinlas,  by  which 
a  tumultuary  cataract  takes  its  course.  This  wild  place  is  said 
m  former  times  to  have  afforded  refuge  to  an  outlaw,  who  was 
Hipplied  with  provisions  by  a  woman,  who  lowered  them  down 
om  the  brink  of  the  precipice  above.  Water  he  procured  for 
nimrelf,  by  letting  down  a  flagon  tied  to  a  string,  into  the  black 
pool  beneath  the  fall. 


NOTE  IV. 

Or  raven  on  the  blasted  oak, 

That,  vjcitching  while  the  deer  is  broke, 

His  morsel  claims  with  sullen  croak. 

St.  V.  p.  120. 

Every  thing  belonging  to  the  chase  was  matter  of  solemnity 
among  our  ancestors,  but  nothing  was  more  so  than  the  mode  of 


298      NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


cutting  up,  or,  as  it  was  technically  called,  breaking  the  slaugh- 
tered stag.  The  forester  had  his  allotted  portion;  the  hounds  had 
a  certain  allowance ;  and,  to  make  the  division  as  general  as 
possible,  the  very  birds  had  their  share  also.  "  There  is  a  little 
gristle,"  says  Turberville,  "which  is  upon  the  spoone  of  the 
brisket,  which  we  call  the  raven's  bone  ;  and  I  have  seen  in 
some  places  a  raven  so  wont  and  accustomed  to  it,  that  she  would 
never  fail  to  croak  and  cry  for  it  all  the  time  you  were  in  break- 
ing up  of  the  deer,  and  would  not  depart  till  she  had  it."  In  the 
very  ancient  metrical  romance  of  Sir  Tristrem,  that  peerless 
Knight,  who  is  said  to  have  been  the  very  deviser  of  all  rules  of 
chase,  did  not  omit  this  ceremony : 

The  raven  he  yaf  his  yiftes 
Sat  on  the  fourched  tre. 

Sir  Tristuem,  2d  edition,  p.  34. 

The  raven  might  also  challenge  his  rights  by  the  Book  of  St. 
Albans  :  for  thus  says  Dame  Juliana  Berners  : 

Slilteth  anon 

The  bely  to  the  side,  from  the  corbyn  bone ; 
That  is  corbyn's  fee,  at  the  death  he  will  be. 

Jonson,  in  "The  Sad  Shepherd,"  gives  a  more  poetical  accoun 
of  the  same  ceremony. 

Marian.  He  that  undoes  him, 

Doth  cleave  the  brisket  bone,  upon  the  spoon 
Of  which  a  little  gristle  grows — you  call  it — 

Bohin  Hood.  The  raven's  bone. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.      297 


Maricm.  Now  o'er  head  sat  a  raven 

On  a  sere  bough,  a  grown,  great  bird,  and  hoarse 
Who,  all  the  while  the  deer  was  breaking  up, 
So  croaked  and  cried  for't,  as  all  the  huntsmen. 
Especially  old  Scathlocke,  thought  it  ominous. 


NOTE  V. 

Which  spills  the  foremost  foeman^  s  life, 
That  party  conquers  in  the  strife. 

St.  vi.  p.  121. 

Though  this  be  in  the  text  described  as  a  response  of  the 
Taghairm,  or  Oracle  of  the  Hide,  it  was  of  itself  an  augury  fre- 
quently attended  to.  The  fate  of  the  battle  was  often  anticipated 
In  the  imagination  of  the  combatants,  by  observing  which  party 
first  shed  blood.  It  is  said  that  the  Highlanders  under  Montrose 
were  so  deeply  imbued  with  this  notion,  that,  on  the  morning  of 
the  battle  of  Tippermoor,  they  murdered  a  defenceless  herdsman, 
whom  they  found  in  the  fields,  merely  to  secure  an  advantage  of 
so  much  consequence  to  their  party. 


NOTE  VI. 

Mice  Brand. 

St.  xii.  p.  127. 

This  little  fairy  tale  is  founded  upon  a  very  curious  Danish 
ballad,  which   occurs    in   K^mpe  Viser,  a  collection  of  heroic 


298      NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


songs,  first  published  in  1591,  and  reprinted  in  1695,  inscribed 
t)y  Anders  Sofrensen,  the  collector  and  editor,  to  Sophia,  Queen 
of  Denmark. 


NOTE  VII. 

Up  spoke  the  moody  Elfin  King, 
Who  ivonn'd  within  the  hill. 

St.  xiii.  p.  129 

In  a  long-  dissertation  upon  the  Fairy  Superstitions,  published 
in  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  the  most  valuable  part 
of  which  was  supplied  by  my  learned  and  indefatigible  friend, 
Dr.  John  Leyden,  most  of  the  circumstances  are  collected  which 
can  throw  light  upon  the  popular  belief  which  even  yet  prevails 
respecting  them  in  Scotland.  Dr.  Grahame,  author  of  an  enter- 
taining work  upon  the  Scenery  of  the  Perthshire  Highlands, 
already  frequently  quoted,  has  recorded,  with  great  accuracy, 
the  peculiar  tenets  held  by  the  Highlanders  on  this  topic,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Loch-Katrine.  The  learned  author  is  inclined  to 
deduce  the  whole  mythology  from  the  Druidical  system — an 
opinion  to  which  there  are  many  objections. 

"  The  Daione  ShV,  or  Men  of  Peace,  of  the  Highlanders, 
though  not  absolutely  malevolent,  are  believed  to  be  a  peevish, 
repining  race  of  beings,  who,  possessing  themselves  but  a  scanty 
portion  of  happiness,  are  supposed  to  envy  mankind  their  more 
complete  and  substantial  enjoyment.  They  are  supposed  to 
enjoy,  in  their  subterranean  recesses,  a  sort  of  shadowy  happi- 
ness— a  tinsel  grandeur:  which,  however,  they  would  willingly 
exchange  for  the  more  solid  joys  of  mortality. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.        299 


"They  are  believed  to  inhabit  certain  round  grassy  emi 
nences,  where  they  celebrate  their  nocturnal  festivities  by  the 
light  of  the  moon.  About  a  mile  beyond  the  source  of  the  Forth, 
above  Lochcon,  there  is  a  place  called  Coirsht'an,  or  the  Cove 
of  the  Men  of  Peace,  which  is  still  supposed  to  be  a  favourite 
place  of  their  residence.  In  the  neighbourhood  are  to  be  seen 
many  round  conical  eminences  ;  particularly  one,  near  the  head 
of  the  lake,  by  the  skirts  of  which  many  are  still  afraid  to  pass 
after,  sunset.  It  is  believed,  that  if,  on  Hallow-eve,  any  person, 
alone,  goes  round  one  of  these  hills  nine  times,  towards  the  left 
hand  {sinistrorsum)  a  door  shall  open,  by  which  he  will  be 
admitted  into  their  subterraneous  abodes.  Many,  it  is  said,  of 
mortal  race  have  been  entertained  in  their  secret  recesses. 
There  they  have  been  received  into  the  most  splendid  apart- 
ments, and  regaled  with  the  most  sumptuous  banquets  and  de- 
licious wines.  Their  females  surpass  the  daughters  of  men  in 
•beauty.  The  seemingly  happy  inhabitants  pass  their  time  in 
festivity,  and  in  dancing  to  notes  of  the  softest  music.  But  un- 
happy is  the  mortal  who  joins  in  their  joys,  or  ventures  to  par- 
take of  their  dainties.  By  this  indulgence,  he  forfeits  for  ever 
the  society  of  men,  and  is  bound  down  irrevocably  to  the  condi- 
tion of  a  Shi'ich,  or  Man  of  Peace. 

"A  woman,  as  is  reported  in  the  Highland  tradition,  was  con- 
veyed, in  days  of  yore,  into  the  secret  recesses  of  the  Men  of 
Peace.  There  she  was  recognised  by  one  who  had  formerly  been 
an  ordinary  mortal,  but  who  had,  by  some  fatality,  become  asso- 
ciated with  the  Shi'ichs.  This  acquaintance,  still  retaining  some 
portion  of  human  benevolence,  warned  her  of  her  danger,  and 
counselled  her,  as  she  valued  her  liberty,  to  abstain  from  eating 
and  drinking  with  them  for  a  certain  space  of  time.  She  com* 
plied  with  the  counsel  of  her  friend ;  and  when  the  period  as- 


300      NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


signed  was  elapsed,  she  found  herself  again  upon  earth,  restored 
to  the  society  of  mortals.  It  is  added,  that  when  she  examined 
the  viands  which  had  been  presented  to  her,  and  which  had 
appeared  so  tempting  to  the  eye,  they  Avere  found,  now  that  the 
enchantment  was  removed,  to  consist  only  of  the  refuse  of  the 
earth."— p.  107,  111. 


NOTE  VIII. 

Why  sounds  yon  stroke  on  beech  and  oak. 

Our  moonlight  circWs  screen  ? 
Or  who  comes  here  to  chase  the  deer^ 
Beloved  of  our  EJjin  Queen  ? 

St.  xiii.  p.  129. 

It  has  been  already  observed,  that  fairies,  if  not  positively 
malevolent,  are  capricious,  and  easily  offended.  They  are,  like 
other  proprietors  of  forests,  pecuharly  jealous  of  their  rights  of 
vert  and  venison,  as  appears  from  the  cause  of  offence  taken,  in 
the  original  Danish  ballad.  This  jealousy  was  also  an  attribute 
of  the  northern  Duergar,  or  dwarfs  ;  to  many  of  whose  dis- 
tinctions the  fairies  seem  to  have  succeeded,  if,  indeed,  they  are 
not  the  same  class  of  beings.  In  the  huge  metrical  record  of 
German  chivalry,  entitled  the  Helden-Buch,  Sir  Hildebrand,  and 
the  other  heroes  of  whom  it  treats,  are  engaged  in  one  of  their 
most  desperate  adventures,  from  a  rash  violation  of  the  rose- 
garden  of  an  Elfin,  or  Dwarf  King. 

There  are  yet  traces  of  a  belief  in  this  worst  and  most  mali- 
cious order  of  Fairies  among  the  Border  wilds.     Dr.  Leyden  has 


N'OTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH.  301 


introduced  such  a  dwarf  into  his  ballad  entitled  the  Cout  of 
Keeldar,  and  has  not  forgot  his  characteristic  detestation  of  the 
chase. 

"The  third  blast  that  young  Keeldar  blew, 
Still  stood  the  limber  fern, 
And  a  wee  man,  of  swarthy  hue 
Upstarted  by  a  cairn. 

"  His  russet  weeds  were  brown  as  heath. 
That  clothes  the  upland  fell ; 
And  the  hair  of  his  head  was  frizzle  red 
As  the  purple  heather-bell. 

"An  urchin,  clad  in  prickles  red, 
Clung  cow'ring  to  his  arm  ; 
The  hounds  they  howl'd,  and  backward  fled, 
As  struck  by  fairy  charm. 

"  '  Why  rises  high  the  stag-hound's  cry, 
Where  stag-hound  ne'er  should  be  ? 
Why  wakes  that  horn  the  silent  morn, 
Without  the  leave  of  me  ?' 

"  '  Brown  dwarf  that  o'er  the  muirland  strays, 
Thy  name  to  Keeldar  tell !' — 
The  Brown  Man  of  the  Muirs,  who  stays 
Beneath  the  heather-bell. 

"  '  'Tis  sweet  beneath  the  heather-bell, 
To  live  in  autumn  brown  ; 

9.  c 


302  NOTES    TO    CANTO    F O  U  R T H. 


And  sweet  to  hear  the  lav'rock's  swei! 
Far,  far  from  tower  and  town. 

" '  But  wo  betide  the  shrilling  horn. 
The  chase's  surly  cheer  ! 
And  ever  that  hunter  is  forlorn, 
Whom  first  at  morn  I  hear,'  " 

The  poetical  picture  here  given  of  the  Duergar  corresponds 
exactly  with  the  following  Northumbrian  legend,  with  which  I 
was  lately  favoured  by  my  learned  and  kind  friend,  Mr.  Surtees, 
of  Mainsforth,  who  has  bestowed  indefatigable  labour  upon  the 
antiquities  of  the  English  Border  counties.  The  subject  is  in 
itself  so  curious  that  the  length  of  the  note  will,  1  hope,  be 
pardoned. 

"  I  have  only  one  record  to  offer  of  the  appearance  of  our 
Northumbrian  Duergar.  My  narratrix  is  EUzabeth  Cockburn, 
an  old  wife  of  Offerton,  in  this  county,  whose  credit,  in  a  case 
of  this  kind,  will  not,  I  hope,  be  much  impeached,  when  I  add, 
that  she  is,  by  her  dull  neighbours,  supposed  to  be  occasionally 
insane,  but,  by  herself,  to  be  at  those  times  endowed  with  a 
faculty  of  seeing  visions,  and  spectral  appearances,  which  shun 
the  common  ken. 

"  In  the  year  before  the  great  rebellion,  two  young  men  from 
Newcastle  were  sporting  on  the  high  moors  above  Elsdon,  and 
after  pursuing  their  game  several  hours,  sat  down  to  dine,  in  a 
green  glen,  near  one  of  the  mountain  streams.  After  their 
repast,  the  younger  lad  ran  to  the  brook  for  water,  and  after 
stooping  to  drink,  was  surprised,  on  lifting  his  head  again,  by 
the  appearance  of  a  brown  dwarf,  who  stood  on  a  crag  covered 
with  brackens,  across  the  burn.     This  extraordinary  personage 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH.  303 


did  not  appear  to  be  above  half  the  stature  of  a  common  man, 
but  was  uncommonly  stout  and  broad  built,  having  the  appear- 
ance of  vast  strength.  His  dress  was  entirely  brown,  the  colour 
of  the  brackens,  and  his  head  covered  with  frizzled  red  hair. 
His  countenance  was  expressive  of  the  most  savage  ferocity,  and 
his  ej'^es  glared  like  a  bull.  It  seems,  he  addressed  the  young 
man  first,  threatening  him  with  his  vengeance,  for  having  tres- 
passed on  his  demesnes,  and  asking  him,  if  he  knew  in  whose 
presence  he  stood  ?  The  youth  replied,  that  he  now  supposed 
him  to  be  the  lord  of  the  moors ;  that  he  offended  through  igno- 
rance ;  and  offered  to  bring  him  the  game  he  had  killed.  Thf 
dwarf  was  a  little  mollified  by  this  submission,  but  remarked  that 
nothing  could  be  more  offensive  to  him  than  such  an  offer,  as  he 
considered  the  wild  animals  as  his  subjects,  and  never  failed  to 
avenge  their  destruction.  He  condescended  further  to  inform 
him,  that  he  was,  like  himself,  mortal,  though  of  years  far  exceed- 
ing the  lot  of  common  humanity  ;  and  (what  I  should  not  have 
had  an  idea  of)  that  he  hoped  for  salvation.  He  never,  he  added, 
fed  on  any  thing  that  had  life,  but  lived,  in  the  summer,  on 
whortleberries,  and  in  winter,  on  nuts  and  apples,  of  which  he 
had  great  store  in  the  woods.  Finally,  he  invited  his  new 
acquaintance  to  accompany  him  home,  and  partake  his  hospi- 
tality ;  an  offer  which  the  youth  was  on  the  point  of  accepting, 
and  was  just  going  to  spring  across  the  brook,  (which  if  he  had 
done,  says  Elizabeth,  the  dwarf  would  certainly  have  torn  him  in 
pieces,)  when  his  foot  was  arrested  by  the  voice  of  his  companion, 
who  thought  he  had  tarried  long;  and,  on  looking  round  again, 
'the  wee  brown  man  was  fled.'  The  story  adds,  that  he  was 
imprudent  enough  to  shght  the  admonition,  and  to  sport  over  the 
moors,  on  his  way  homewards ;  but  soon  after  his  return,  he  fell 
into  a  hngering  disorder,  and  died  within  the  year."' 


304  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH. 


NOTE  IX. 

Or  ivho  may  dare  on  wold  to  wear 
The  fairies'  fatal  green. 

St.  xiii.  p.  129. 

As  the  Daoine  ShV,  or  Men  of  Peace,  wore  green  Habits,  they 
were  supposed  to  take  offence  when  any  mortals  ventured  to 
assume  their  iavourite  colour.  Indeed,  from  some  reason,  which 
has  been,  perhaps,  originally  a  general  superstition,  green  is  held 
in  Scotland  to  be  unlucky  to  particular  tribes  and  counties.  The 
Caithness  men,  who  hold  this  belief,  allege,  as  a  reason,  that 
their  bands  wore  that  colour  when  they  were  cut  off  at  the  battle 
of  Flodden ;  and  for  (he  same  reason  they  avoid  crossing  the  Ord 
on  a  Monday,  being  the  day  of  the  week  on  which  their  ill- 
omened  array  set  forth.  Green  is  also  disliked  by  those  of  the 
name  of  Ogilvy ;  but  more  especially  is  it  held  fatal  to  the  whole 
clan  of  Grahame.  It  is  remembered  of  an  aged  gentleman  of 
that  name,  that  when  his  horse  fell  in  a  fox-chase,  he  accounted 
for  it  at  once,  by  observing,  that  the  whip-cord  attached  to  his 
lash  Avas  of  this  unlucky  colour. 


NOTE  X. 

For  thou  ivert  christen'' d  man. 

St.  xiii.  p.  129. 

The  Elves  were  supposed  greatly  to  envy  the  privileges 
acquired  by  Christian  initiation,  and  they  gave  to  those  mortals 
who  fell  into  their  power  a  certain  precedence,  founded  upon  thia 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.      305 


fjdvantageous  distinction.     Tamlane,  in  the  old  ballad,  describes 
his  own  rank  in  the  fairy  procession : 

"For  I  ride  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

And  aye  nearest  the  town  ; 
Because  I  was  a  christen'd  knight. 

They  gie  n:io  that  renown." 

I  presume,  that,  in  the  Danish  ballad,  the  obstinacy  of  the 
"  Weiest  Elf,"  Avho  would  not  flee  for  cross  or  sign,  is  to  be 
derived  from  the  circumstance  of  his  having  been  "christened 
man." 

How  eager  the  elves  were  to  obtain  for  their  offspring  the  pre- 
rogatives of  Christianity,  will  be  proved  by  the  following  story : 
"  In  the  district  called  Haga,  in  Iceland,  dwelt  a  nobleman  called 
Sigward  Forster,  who  had  an  intrigue  with  one  of  the  subter- 
ranean females.  The  elf  became  pregnant,  and  exacted  from 
her  lover  a  firm  promise  that  he  would  procure  the  baptism  of 
the  infant.  At  the  appointed  time,  the  mother  came  to  the 
churchyard,  on  the  wall  of  which  she  placed  a  golden  cup,  and 
a  stole  for  the  priest,  agreeable  to  the  custom  of  making  an 
offering  at  baptism.  She  then  stood  a  little  apart.  When  the 
priest  left  the  church,  he  inquired  the  meaning  of  what  he  saw, 
and  demanded  of  Sigward  if  he  avowed  himself  the  father  of  the 
child.  But  Sigward,  ashamed  of  the  connection,  denied  the 
paternity.  He  was  then  interrogated  if  he  desired  that  the  child 
should  be  baptized ;  but  this  also  he  answered  in  the  negative^ 
'est,  by  such  request,  he  should  admit  himself  to  be  the  father. 
On  which  the  child  was  left  untouched  and  unbaptized.  Where- 
upon the  mother,  in  extreme  wrath,  snatched  up  the  infant  and 
the  cup,  and  retired,  leaving  the  priestly  cope,  of  which  fragments 


306      NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH 


are  still  in  preservation.  But  this  female  denounced  and  imposed 
upon  Sigward,  and  his  posterity,  to  the  ninth  generation,  a  singular 
disease,  with  which  many  of  his  descendants  are  afflicted  at  this 
day."  Thus  wrote  Einar  Gudmund,  pastor  of  the  parish  of 
Garpsdale,  in  Iceland,  a  man  profoundly  versed  in  learning,  from 
whose  manuscript  it  was  extracted  by  the  learned  Torfseus. — 
Historia  Hrolfi  Krakii,  Hafnise,  1715,  prefatio. 


NOTE  XL 

Jlnd  gaily  shines  the  Fairy-land — 
But  all  is  glistening  show. 

St.  XV.  p.  131. 

No  fact  respecting  Fairy-land  seems  to  be  better  ascertained 
than  the  fantastic  and  illusory  nature  of  their  apparent  pleasure 
and  splendour.  It  has  been  already  noticed,  in  the  former 
quotations  from  Dr.  Grahame's  entertaining  volume,  and  may  be 
confirmed  by  the  following  Highland  tradition:  "A  woman, 
u-hose  new-born  child  had  been  conveyed  by  them  into  their 
secret  abodes,  was  also  carried  thither  herself,  to  remain,  how- 
ever, only  until  she  should  suckle  her  infant.  She,  one  day, 
during  this  period,  observed  the  Shi'ichs  busily  employed  in 
mixing  various  ingredients  in  a  boiling  cauldron  ;  and,  as  soon 
as  the  composition  was  prepared,  she  remarked  that  they  all 
carefully  anointed  their  eyes  with  it,  laying  the  remainder  aside 
for  future  use.  In  a  momc  it  when  they  were  all  absent,  she 
also  attempted  to  anoint  her  eyes  with  the  precious  drug,  but  had 
time  to  apply  it  to  one  eye  only,  when  the  Daoine  Shi  returned 
But  with  that  eye  she  was  henceforth  enabled  to  see  every  thing 
as  it  really  passed  in  their  secret  abodes  : — she  saw  every  object, 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.     307 


not  as  she  hitheito  had  done,  in  deceptive  splendour  and  elegance, 
but  in  its  genuine  colours  and  form.  The  gaudy  ornaments  of 
the  apartment  were  reduced  to  the  walls  of  a  gloomy  cavern. 
Soon  after,  having  discharged  her  office,  she  was  dismissed  to 
her  own  home.  Still,  however,  she  retained  the  faculty  of  seeing, 
with  her  medicated  eye,  every  thing  that  was  done,  anywhere 
in  her  presence,  by  the  deceptive  art  of  the  order.  One  day, 
amidst  a  throng  of  people,  she  chanced  to  observe  the  iShricIi, 
or  man  of  peace,  in  whose  possession  she  had  left  her  child ; 
though  to  every  other  eye  invisible.  Prompted  by  maternaj 
affection,  she  inadvertently  accosted  him,  and  began  to  inquire 
after  tne  welfare  of  her  child.  The  man  of  peace,  astonished  at 
being  thus  recognised  by  one  of  mortal  race,  demanded  how  she 
had  been  enabled  to  discover  him.  Awed  by  the  terrible  frown 
of  his  countenance,  she  acknowledged  what  she  had  done.  He 
spat  in  her  eye,  and  extinguished  it  for  ever." — Grahame's 
Sketches,  p.  116-118.  It  is  very  remarkable,  that  this  story, 
translated  by  Dr.  Grahanie  from  popular  Gaelic  tradition,  is  to 
be  found  in  the  Otia  Imperialia  of  Gervase  of  Tilbury.  A  work 
of  great  interest  might  be  compiled  upon  the  origin  of  popular 
fiction,  and  the  transmission  of  similar  tales  from  age  to  age, 
and  from  country  to  country.  The  mythology  of  one  period 
would  then  appear  to  pass  into  the  romance  of  the  next  century, 
and  that  into  the  nursery-tale  of  the  subsequent  ages.  Such  an 
investigation,  Avhile  it  went  greatly  to  diminish  our  ideas  of  the 
richness  of  human  invention,  would  also  show,^  that  these  fictions, 
however"  wild  and  childish,  possess  such  charms  for  the  popu- 
lace, as  enable  them  to  penetrate  into  countries  unconnected  by 
manners  and  language,  and  having  no  apparent  intercourse,  lu 
afford  the  means  of  transmission.  It  would  carry  me  far  beyona 
my  bounds,   to   produce   instances    of  this   community  of  fable, 


308  NOTES    TO    CaNTO    FOURTH. 


among  nations  who  never  Ijorrowed  from  each  other  any  thing 
intrinsically  worth  learning.  Indeed  the  wide  diffasion  of  popu- 
lar fictions  may  be  compared  to  the  facility  with  which  straws 
and  feathers  are  dispersed  abroad  by  the  wind,  while  valuable 
metals  cannot  be  transported  without  trouble  and  labour.  There 
lives,  I  believe,  only  one  gentleman,  whose  unlimited  acquaint- 
ance with  this  subject  might  enable  him  to  do  it  justice ;  I  mean 
my  friend  Mr.  Francis  Douce,  of  the  British  Museum,  whose 
usual  kindness  will,  I  hope,  pardon  my  mentioning  his  name 
while  on  a  subject  so  closely  connected  with  his  extensive  and 
curious  researches. 


NOTE  XII. 

/  sunk  doivn  in  a  sinful  fray, 
And,  Uwixt  life  and  death,  rvas  snatcWd  away 
To  the  joyless  Elfn  hoioer. 

St.  XV.  p.  132. 

The  subjects  of  Fairy-land  were  recruited  from  the  regions  of 
humanity  by  a  sort  of  crimping  system,  which  extended  to 
adults  as  well  as  to  infants.  Many  of  those  who  were  in  this 
world  supposed  to  have  discharged  the  debt  of  nature,  had  only 
become  denizens  of  the  "  Londe  of  Faery."  In  the  beautiful 
Fairy  Romance  of  Orfee  and  Heurodiis  (Orpheus  and  Eurydice) 
in  the  Auchinleck  MS.,  is  a  striking  enumeration  of  persons  thus 
abstracted  from  middle  earth.  Mr.  Ritson  unfortunately  pub- 
li.shed  this  romance  from  a  copy  in  which  this  and  many  other 
highly  poetical  passages  do  not  occur. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.      309 


Then  he  gau  biholde  aboute  al, 

And  seighe  ful  liggeand  within  the  wal 

Of  folk  that  were  thidder  y-brought, 

And  thought  dede  and  nere  nought ; 

Some  stode  withouten  hadde  ; 

And  sum  none  armes  nade  ; 

And  sum  thurch  the  bodi  hadde  wounde ; 

And  sum  lay  wode  y-bounde  ; 

And  sum  armed  on  hors  sele  ; 

And  sum  astrangled  as  thai  etc  ; 

And  sum  war  in  water  adreynt ; 

And  sum  with  fire  al  for-schreynt ; 

Wives  there  lay  on  childe  bedde ; 

Sum  dede,  and  sum  awedde  ; 

And  wonder  fele  ther  lay  besides, 

Right  as  thai  slepe  her  undertides ; 

Eche  was  thus  in  this  warld  y-nome, 

With  fairi  thider  y-come." 


NOTE  XIII. 

JVlio  ever  reck\l  where,  hoiv,  or  when, 
The  prowling  fox  was  trappUl  or  slain? 

Si.  XXX.  p.  I4S. 

St.  John  actually  used  this  illustration  when  engaged  in  con« 
futing  the  plea  of  law  proposed  for  the  unfortunate  Ean  of 
Strafford  :  "It  was  true,  we  gave  laws  to  hares  and  deer,  because 
they  are  beasts  of  chase;  but  it  was  never  accounted  either 
cruelty  or  foul  play  to  knock  foxes  or  wolves  on  the  head  as  they 
can  be  found,  because  they  are  beasts  of  prey.     In  a  word,  the 


310      NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


law  and  humanity  were  alike ;  the  one  being  more  fallacious,  and 
the  other  more  barbarous,  than  in  any  age  had  been  vented  in 
such  an  authority." — Clarendon's  History  of  the  Rebellion. 


NOTE  XIV. 

Hit  Highland  cheer, 
The  harden^ iijlcsh  of  mountain-deer. 

St.  xxxi.  p.  149. 

The  Scottish  Highlanders,  in  former  times,  had  a  concise 
mode  of  cooking  their  venison,  or  rather  of  dispensing  with 
cooking  it,  which  appears  greatly  to  have  surprised  the  French, 
whom  chance  made  acquainted  with  it.  The  Vidame  of  Chartres, 
when  a  hostage  in  England,  during  the  reign  of  Edward  VL. 
was  permitted  to  travel  into  Scotland,  and  penetrated  as  far  as  to 
the  remote  Highlands,  [au  fin  fond  des  Sauvages.)  After  a 
great  hunting  party,  at  which  a  most  wonderful  quantity  of 
game  was  destroyed,  he  saw  these  Scottish  Savages  devour  a 
part  of  their  venison  raw,  without  any  further  preparation  than 
compressing  it  between  two  battens  of  wood,  so  as  to  force  out 
the  blood,  and  render  it  extremely  hard.  This  they  reckoned  a 
great  delicacy ;  and  when  the  Vidame  partook  of  it,  his  com- 
pliance  with  their  taste  rendered  him  extremely  popular.  This 
curious  trait  of  manners  was  communicated  by  Mons.  de  Mont- 
morencjs  a  great  friend  of  the  Vidame,  to  Brantome,  by  whom 
it  is  recorded  in  Vies  des  Homines  Illuslres,  Discours  Ixxxix., 
art.  14.  The  process  by  which  the  raw  venison  was  rendered 
eatable  is  described  very  minutely  in  the  romance  of  Perceforest, 
where  Estonne,  a  Scottish   kn'-'-ht-errant,  having  slain  a  deer 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH,      311 


?ays  to  h\s  companion  Claudins :  "Sire,  or  mangerez  vous  et 
moy  aussi.  Voire  si  nous  auions  de  feu,  dit  Claudius.  Par 
I'ame  de  mon  pere,  dist  Estonne,  ie  vous  atourneray  et  cuiray  a 
la  maniere  de  nostre  pays  comme  pour  cheualier  errant.  Lors 
lira  son  espee,  et  sen  vint  a  la  branche  dung  arbre,  et  y  fait  vng 
grant  trou,  et  puis  fend  la  branche  bien  deux  piedz,  et  boute,  la 
cuisse  du  curf  entredeux,  et  puis  prent  le  licol  de  son  cheval,  et 
on  lye  la  branche,  et  destraint  si  fort,  que  le  sang  et  les  humeurs 
de  la  chair  saillent  hors  et  demeure  la  chair  doulce  et  seiche. 
Lors  prent  la  chair,  et  oste  ius  le  cuir,  et  la  chaire  demeure  aussi 
blanche  comme  si  ce  feust  dung  chappon.  Dont  dist  a  Claudius, 
Sire,  ie  la  vous  ay  cuiste  a  la  guise  de  mon  pays,  vous  en  pouez 
manger  hardyement,  car  ie  mangeray  premier.  Lors  met  sa 
main  a  sa  selle  en  vng  lieu  quil  y  auoit,  et  tire  hors  sel  et  poudre 
de  poiure  et  gingembre,  mesle  ensemble,  et  le  iecte  dessus,  et  le 
frote  sus  bien  fort,  puis  le  couppe  a  moytie,  et  en  donne  a  Claudius 
Tune  des  pieces,  et  puis  mort  en  I'autre  aussi  sauoureusement 
quil  est  aduis  que  il  en  feist  le  pouldre  voller.  Quant  Claudius 
veit  quil  le  mangeoit  de  tel  goust,  il  en  print  grant  faim  et  com- 
mence a  manger  tresvoulentiers,  et  dist  a  Estonne  ;  Par  Fame  de 
moy,  ie  ne  mangeay  oncquesmais  de  chair  atournee  de  telle 
guise :  mais  doresenauant  ie  ne  me  retourneroye  pas  hors  de 
mon  chemin  par  auoir  la  cuite.  Sire,  dist  Estonne,  quant  ie 
suis  en  desers  d'Escosse,  dent  ie  suis  seigneur,  ie  cheuaucheray 
huit  iours  ou  quinze  que  ie  n'entreray  en  chastel  ne  en  maison, 
et  si  ne  verray  feu  ne  personne  viuant  fors  que  bestes  sauuages, 
et  de  celles  mangeray  atournees  en  ceste  maniere,  et  mieulx  me 
plaira  que  la  viande  de  I'empereur.  Ainsi  sen  vont  mangeant  et 
cheuauchant  iusques  adonc  quilz  arriuerent  sur  une  moult  belle 
fontaine  qui  estoit  en  vne  valee.  Quant  Estonne  la  vit  il  dist  a 
Claudius,  allons  boire  a  ceste  fontaine.    Or  beuuons,  dist  Estonne, 


812       NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


du  boire  que  le  grant  dieu  a  pourueu  a  toutes  gens,  et  que  me 
plaist  misulx  que  les  ceruoises  d'Angleterre." — La  Trescleguntc 
Hystoire  du  tresnoble  Roy  Perccforcst.  Paris,  1531,  foL  tome  i. 
fol.  Iv.  vers. 

After  all,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  la  chaire  nostree,  for  s 
the  French  called  the  venison  thus  summarily  prepared,  was  any 
thing  more  than  a  mere  rude  kind  of  deer-ham. 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   FIFTH. 


NOTE  I. 


Not  then  0101171' d  sovereignty  his  dues 
While  Albany,  with  feeble  hand. 
Held  borrowed  truncheoi    ^^  command . 

St.  vi.  p.  150. 

There  is  scarcely  a  more  disorderly  period  in  Scottisli  history 
than  that  which  succeeded  the  battle  of  Flodden,  and  occupied 
the  minority  of  James  V.  Feuds  of  ancient  standing  broke  out 
hke  old  wounds,  and  every  quarrel  among  the  independent  nobi- 
lity, which  occurred  daily,  and  almost  hourly,  gave  rise  to  fresh 
bloodshed.  "There  arose,"  says  Pitscottie,  "great  trouble  and 
deadly  feuds  in  many  parts  of  Scotland,  both  in  the  north  and 
west, parts.  The  Master  of  Forbes,  in  the  north,  slew  the  Laird 
of  Meldrum  under  tryst,  (i.  e.  at  an  agreed  and  secure  meet- 
ing.) Likewise,  the  Laird  of  Drummelzier  slew  the  Lord  Fle- 
ming at  the  hawking ;  and,  hkewise,  there  was  slaughter  among 
many  other  great  lords."  p.  121.  Nor  was  the  matter  much 
mended  under  the  government  of  the  Earl  of  Angus  :  for  though 
he  caused  the  King  to  ride  tl.rough  all  Scotland,  "  under  pre- 
ence  and  colour  of  justice,  to  punish  thief  and  traitor,  none 
2L>  3ia 


314  NOTES    TO    ClANTO    FIFTH. 


were  found  greater  than  were  in  their  own  company.  And  non& 
at  that  time  durst  strive  with  a  Douglas,  nor  yet  with  a  Douglas's 
man,  for  if  they  did,  they  got  the  worse.  Therefore,  none  durst 
plainzie  of  no  extortion,  theft,  reiff,  nor  slaughter,  done  to  them 
by  the  Douglasses,  or  their  men ;  in  that  cause  they  were  not 
heard,  so  long  as  the  Douglasses  had  the  court  in  guiding." — 
Ibid.  p.  133. 


NOTE  II. 

The  Gael,  of  plain  and  river  heir, 

Shall,  with  strong  hand,  redeem  his  share. 

St.  vii.  p.  158. 

The  ancient  Highlanders  verified  in  their  practice  the  lin^.s  of 
Gray : 

"An  iron  race  the  mountain  cliffs  maintain. 
Foes  to  the  gentler  genius  of  the  plain  ; 
■     For  where  unwearied  sinews  must  be  found, 
With  sidelong  plough  to  quell  the  flinty  ground  ; 
To  turn  the  torrent's  swift-descending  flood. 
To  tame  the  savage,  rushing  from  the  wood ; 
What  wonder  if,  to  patient  valour  train'd, 
Thejr  guard  with  spirit  what  by  strength  they  gain'd; 
And  while  their  rocky  ramparts  round  they  sqe 
Tlie  rough  abode  of  want  and  liberty, 
(As  lawless  force  from  confidence  will  grow,) 
Insult  the  plenty  of  the  vales  below." 

So  far,  mdeed,  was  a  Creagh,  or  foray,  from  being  held  dis. 
graceful  among  the  ancient  Highlanders,  that  a  young  chief  was 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  31( 


ulways  expected  to  show  his  talents  for  command  so  soon  as  he 
assumed  it,  by  leading  his  clan  on  a  successful  enterprise  of  this 
nature,  either  against  a  neighbouring  sept,  for  which  constant 
feuds  usually  furnished  an  apology,  or  against  the  Sassenach, 
Saxons,  or  Lowlanders,  for  which  no  apology  was  necessary. 
The  Gael,  great  traditional  historians,  never  forgot  that  the  Low- 
lands had,  at  some  remote  period,  been  the  property  of  their 
Celtic  forefathers,  which  furnished  an  ample  vindication  of  all 
the  ravages  that  they  could  make  on  the  unfortunate  districts 
which  lay  within  their  reach.  Sir  James  Grant  of  Grant  is  in 
possession  of  a  letter  of  apology  from  Cameron  of  Lochiel, 
whose  men  had  committed  some  depredation  upon  a  farm  called 
Moines,  occupied  by  one  of  the  Grants.  Lochiel  assures  Grant, 
that,  however  the  mistake  had  happened,  his  instructions  were 
precise,  that  the  party  should  foray  the  province  of  Moray,  (a 
Lowland  district,)  where,  as  he  coolly  observes,  "  all  men  take 
their  prey." 


NOTE  in. 

/  only  meant 

To  show  the  reed  on  which  you  leant, 
Deeming  this  path  you  might  pursue 
Without  a  pass  from  Roderick  Dhu. 

St.  xi.  p.  162. 

This  incident,  hke  some  other  passages  in  the  poem,  illustra- 
tive of  the  character  of  the  ancient  Gael,  is  not  imaginary,  but 
borrowed  from  fact.  The  Highlanders,  with  the  inconsistency 
of  most  nations  in  the  same  state,  were  alternately  capable  of 


316  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


great  exertions  of  generosity,  and  of  cruel  revenge  and  perfidy. 
The  following  storj'-  I  can  only  quote  from  tradition,  but  with 
such  an  assurance  from  those  by  whom  it  was  communicated,  as 
permits  me  little  doubt  of  its  authenticit)-.  Early  in  the  last 
century,  John  Gunn,  a  noted  Cateran,  or  Highland  robber, 
infested  Inverness-shire,  and  levied  black  mail  up  to  the  walla 
of  the  provincial  capital.  A  garrison  was  then  maintained  in 
the  castle  of  that  town,  and  their  pay  (country  banks  being 
unknown)  was  usually  transmitted  in  specie,  under  the  guard  of 
a  small  escort.  It  chanced  that  the  officer  who  commanded  this 
little  party  was  unexpectedly  obliged  to  halt,  about  thirty  miles 
from  Inverness,  at  a  miserable  inn.  About  nightfall,  a  stranger, 
in  the  Highland  dress,  and  of  very  prepossessing  appearance, 
entered  the  same  house.  Separate  accommodation  being  impos- 
sible,  the  Englishman  offered  the  newly-arrived  guest  a  part  of 
his  supper,  which  was  accepted  with  reluctance.  By  the  con- 
versation, he  found  his  new  acquaintance  knew  well  all  the 
passes  of  the  country,  which  induced  him  eagerly  to  request  his 
company  on  the  ensuing  morning.  He  neither  disguised  his 
business  and  charge,  nor  his  apprehensions  of  that  celebrated 
freebooter,  John  Gunn.  The  Highlander  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then  frankly  consented  to  be  his  guide.  Forth  they  set  in 
the  morning  ;  and  in  travelling  through  a  solitary  and  dreary 
glen,  the  discourse  again  turned  on  John  Gunn.  "Would  you 
like  to  see  him?"  said  the  guide;  and,  Avithout  waiting  an  ansv/er 
to  this  alarming  question,  he  whistled,  and  the  English  officer, 
with  his  small  party,  was  surrounded  by  a  body  of  Highlanders, 
whose  numbers  put  resistance  out  of  question,  and  who  were  all 
well  armed.  "  Stranger,"'  resumed  the  guide,  "  I  am  that  very 
John  Gunn  by  whom  you  feared  to  be  intercepted,  and  not 
without  cause  ;  for  I  came  to  the  inn  last  night  with  the  express 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  317 


purpose  of  learning  your  route,  ihat  I  and  my  followers  might 
ease  you  of  your  charge  by  the  road.  But  I  am  incapable  of 
betraying  the  trust  you  reposed  in  me,  and  having  convinced 
you  that  you  are  in  my  power,  I  can  only  dismiss  you  un- 
plundered  and  uninjured."  He  then  gave  the  officer  directions 
for  his  journey,  and  disappeared  with  his  party,  as  suddenly  as 
they  had  presented  themselves. 


NOTE  IV. 

On  Bochastle  the  mouldering  lines, 
JFhcre  Rome,  the  empress  of  the  ivorld. 
Of  yore  her  eagle  wings  unfurVd. 

St.  xii.  p.  163. 

The  torrent  which  discharges  itself  from  Loch  Vennachar,  the 
lowest  and  eastmost  of  the  three  lakes  which  form  the  scenery 
adjoining  to  the  Trosachs,  sweeps  through  a  flat  and  extensive 
moor,  called  Bochastle.  Upon  a  small  eminence,  called  the 
Dun  of  Bochastle,  and  indeed  on  the  plain  itself,  are  some 
entrenchments  which  have  been  thought  Roman.  There  is, 
adjacent  to  Callender,  a  sweet  villa,  the  residence  of  Cap  ain 
Fairfoul,  entitled  the  Roman  Camp. 


318  N  O T  E  S    T  0    C  A  N  TO    F  I F T H. 


NOTE  V. 

See,  here,  all  vantageless  I  stand, 
AriTi'd  like  thyself,  with  single  brand. 

St.  xii.  p.  164. 

The  duellists  of  former  times  did  not  always  stand  upon  those 
punctilios  respecting  equality  of  arms,  which  are  now  judged 
essential  to  fair  combat.  It  is  true,  that  in  formal  combats  in 
the  lists,  the  parties  were,  by  the  judges  of  the  field,  put  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  the  same  circumstances.  But  in  private  duel  it 
was  often  otherwise.  In  that  desperate  combat  which  was  fought 
between  Gluelus,  a  minion  of  Henry  III.  of  France,  and  Antra- 
guet,  with  two  seconds  on  each  side,  from  which  only  two  persons 
escaped  alive,  Gluelus  complained  that  his  antagonist  had  over 
him  the  advantage  of  a  poniard  which  he  used  in  parrying,  while 
nis  left  hand,  which  he  was  forced  to  employ  for  the  same  pur- 
pose, was  cruelly  mangled.  When  he  charged  Antraguet  with 
this  odds,  "Thou  hast  done  wrong,"  answered  he,  "to  forget 
thy  dagger  at  home.  We  are  here  to  fight,  and  not  to  settle 
punctiHos  of  arms."  In  a  similar  duel,  however,  a  younger 
brother  of  the  house  of  Aubayne,  in  Angoulesme,  behaved  more 
generously  on  the  like  occasion,  and  nt  once  threw  away  his 
dagger  when  his  enemy  challenged  it  as  an  undue  advantage. 
But  at  this  time  hardly  any  thing  can  be  conceived  more  horridly 
brutal  and  savage,  than  the  mode  in  which  private  quarrels  wert 
conducted  in  France.  Those  who  were  most  jealous  of  the  point 
of  honour,  and  acquired  the  title  of  Riiffines,  did  not  scruple  to 
take  every  advantage  of  strength,  numbers,  surprise,  and  arms, 
to  accomplish  their  revenge.     The  Sieur  de  Brantome,  to  whose 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  319 


discourse  on  duels  I  am  obliged  for  these  particulars,  gives  the 
following  account  of  the  death  and  principles  of  his  friend,  the 
Baron  de  Vitaux. 

"J'ay  oui  center  a  iin  Tireur  d'armes,  qui  apprit  a  Millaud  a 
en  tirer,  lequei  s'appelloit  le  Seigneur  Jacques  Ferron,  de  la  villa 
d'Ast,  qui  avoit  esle  a  moy,  il  fut  despuis  tue  a  Saincte-Basille 
en  Gascogne,  lors  que  Monsieur  du  Mayne  I'assiegea,  lui  servant 
d'lngenieur ;  et  de  malheur,  je  I'avois  adresse  audit  Baron 
quelques  trois  mois  auparavant,  pour  Texercer  a  tirer,  bien  qu'il 
en  s^eust  prou  ;  mais  il  n'en  fit  conte  :  et  le  laissant,  Millaud  s'en 
servit,  et  le  rendit  fort  adroit.  Ce  Seigneur  Jacques  done  me 
raconta,  qu'il  s'estoit  monte  sur  un  noyer,  assez  loing,  pour  en 
voir  le  combat,  et  qu'il  ne  vist  jamais  homme  y  aller  plus  brave- 
ment,  ny  plus  resolument,  ny  de  grace  plus  asseuree,  ny  deter- 
minee.  II  commen^a  de  marcher  de  cinquante  pas  vers  son 
ennemy,  relevant,  sou  vent  ses  moustaches  en  haut  d'unc  main; 
et  estant  a  vingt  pas  de  son  ennpmy  (non  plustost),  il  mit  la  main 
a  I'espee  qu'il  tenoit  en  la  main,  non  qu'il  I'eust  tiree  encore  ; 
mais  en  marchant,  il  fit  voller  le  fourreau  en  Pair,  en  le  secouant, 
ce  qui  est  le  beau  de  cela,  et  qui  monstroit  bien  une  grace  de 
combat  bien  asseuree  et  fioide,  et  nuileraent  temeraire,  comme 
il  y  en  a  qui  tirent  leurs  espees  de  cinq  cents  pas  de  I'ennemy, 
\'oire  de  mille,  comme  j'en  ay  veu  aucuns.  Ainsi  mourut  ce 
brave  Baron,  le  paragon  de  France,  qu'on  nommoit  tcl,  a  bien 
venger  ses  querelles,  par  grandes  et  determinees  resolutions. 
II  n'estoit  pas  seulement  estime  en  France,  mais  en  Italie, 
Espaigne,  Allemaigne,  en  Boulogne  et  Angleterre ;  et  desiroient 
fort  les  Estrangers,  venant  en  France,  le  voir  ;  car  je  I'ay  veu, 
tant  sa  renommee  voUoit.  II  estoit  fort  petit  de  corps,  mais  fort 
grand  de  courage.  Ses  ennemis  disoient  qu'il  ne  tuoit  pas  bien 
ses  gens,  que  par  advantages  et  supercheries.      Certes,  je  tiens 


320  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


de  grandes  capitames,  et  mesrae  d'ltaliens,  qui  sont  estez  d'autres 
fois  les  premiers  vengeurs  du  monde,  in  ogni  modo,  disoient  lis, 
qui  ont  tenu  cette  maxime,  qu'une  supercherie  ne  se  devoit  payer 
que  par  sembiable  moiinoye,  et  n'y  alloit  point  la  de  desiionneur." 
— Ocuvres  de  Brantome,  Paris,  17S7-8,  tome  viii.  p.  90-92.  It 
may  be  necessary  to  inform  the  reader,  that  this  paragon  of 
France  was  the  most  foul  asoassin  of  his  time,  and  had  committed 
many  desperate  murders,  chiefly  by  the  assistance  of  his  hired 
banditti ;  from  which  it  may  be  conceived  how  little  the  point  of 
honour  of  the  period  deserved  its  name.  I  have  chosen  to  give 
the  heroes,  who  are  indeed  of  an  earlier  period,  a  stronger  tincture 
of  the  spirit  of  chivalry. 


NOTE  VI. 

Ill  fared  it  then  ivith  Roderick  Dim, 
That  on  the  field  his  targe  he  thrcv:. 

St.  XV.  p.  I6G. 

A  round  target  of  light  wood,  covered  with  strong  leather, 
and  studded  with  brass  or  iron,  was  a  necessary  part  of  a  High- 
lander's equipment.  In  charging  regular  troops  they  received 
the  thrust  of  the  bayonet  in  this  buckler,  twisted  it  aside,  and 
used  the  broadsword  against  the  encumbered  soldier.  In  the 
civil  war  of  1745,  most  of  the  front  rank  of  the  clans  were  thus 
armed  ;  and  Captain  Grose  informs  us,  that  in  1747,  the  privates 
Di  the  42d  regiment,  then  in  Flanders,  were  for  the  most  part 
permitted  to  carry  targets. — Military  Antiquities,  vol.  i.  p.  164. 
A  person  thus  armed  had  a  considerable  advantage  in  private 
fray.      Among  verses  between  Swift  and  Sheridan,  lately  pub- 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  321 


lished  by  Dr.  Barrett,  there  is  an  account  of  such  an  encounter, 
in  wliich  the  circumstances,  and  consequently  the  relative 
superiority  of  the  combatants,  are  precisely  the  reverse  of  those 
in  the  text : 

••  A  Highlander  once  fought  a  Frenchman  at  Margate, 
The  weapons,  a  rapier,  a  backsword,  and  target ; 
Brisk  Monsieur  advanced  as  fast  as  he  could, 
But  all  his  fine  pushes  were  caught  in  the  wood, 
And  Sawney,  with  backsword,  did  slash  him  and  nick  him. 
While  t'other,  enraged  that  he  could  not  once  prick  him. 
Cried,  '  Sirrah,  you  rascal,  you  son  of  a  whore, 
Me  will  fight  you,  be  gar  !  if  you'll  come  from  your  door     ' 


NOTE  VII. 

For,  tralrCd  abroad  his  arms  to  wield, 
Fitz-James'' s  blade  teas  sword  and  shield. 

St.  XV.  p.  1G7. 

The  use  of  defensive  armour,  and  particularly  of  the  buckler 
ur  target,  was  general  in  Q,ueen  Elizabeth's  time,  although  that 
of  the  single  rapier  seems  to  have  been  occasionally  practised 
much  earlier.^  Rowland  Yorke,  however,  who  betrayed  the  fort 
of  Zutphen  to  the  Spaniards,  for  which  good  service  he  waa 
afterwards  poisoned  by  them,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  who 
brought  the  rapier-fight  into  general  use.     Fuller,  speaking  of 


See  Douce's  Illustrations  of  Shaksp ears,  vol.  ii.  p.  Gl. 


333  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


the  swash-bucklers,  or  bullies,  of  Q,ueen  Elizabclh's  time,  says, 
"West  Sinithfield  was  forinerl}'  called  Ruffian's  Hall,  where 
such  men  usually  met,  casually  or  otherwise,  to  try  masteries 
with  sword  and  buckler.  More  were  frightened  than  hurt,  more 
hart  than  killed  therewith,  it  being  accounted  unmanly  to  strike 
beneath  the  knee.  But  since  that  desperate  traitor  Rowland 
Yorke  first  introduced  thrusting  with  rapiers,  sword  and  buckler 
are  disused."  In  "The  Two  Angry  Women  of  Abingdon,"  a 
comedy,  printed  in  1599,  w^e  have  a  pathetic  complaint  : — 
"Sword  and  buckler  fight  begins  to  grow  out  of  use.  1  am 
sorry  for  it:  I  shall  never  sec  good  manhood  again.  If  it  be 
once  gone,  this  poking  fight  of  rapier  and  dagger  will  come  up ; 
then  a  tall  man  and  a  good  sword  and  buckler  man  will  be  spitted 
like  a  cat  or  rabbit."  But  the  rapier  had,  upon  the  continent, 
long  superseded,  in  private  duel,  the  use  of  sword  and  shield. 
The  masters  of  the  noble  science  of  defence  were  chiefly  Italians. 
They  made  great  rnystery  of  their  art  and  mode  of  instruction, 
never  suffered  any  person  to  be  present  but  the  scholar  who  was 
to  be  taught,  and  even  examined  closets,  beds,  and  other  places 
of  possible  concealment.  Their  lessons  often  gave  the  most 
treacherous  advantages;  for  the  challenger,  having  the  right  to 
choose  his  weapons,  frequently  selected  some  strange,  unusual, 
and  inconvenient  kind  of  arms,  the  use  of  which  he  practised 
under  these  instructers,  and  thus  killed  at  his  ease  his  antagonist, 
to  whom  it  was  presented  for  the  first  time  on  the  field  of  battle. 
Sec  Brantome's  Discourse  on  Duels,  and  the  work  on  the  same 
subject,  "si  genlemcnt  ■ecrit,''^  by  the  venerable  Dr.  Paris  de 
Puteo.  The  Highlanders  continued  to  use. broadsword  and  target 
until  disarmed  after  the  affair  of  1745-G. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  323 


NOTE  VIII. 

Like  mountain-cat  ivho  guards  her  young, 
Full  at  Fitz-James^s  throat  he  sprung. 

St.  xvi.  p.  108. 

I  havj  not  ventured  to  render  this  duel  so  savagely  desperate 
as  that  of  the  celebrated  Sir  Ewan  of  Lochiel,  chief  of  the  clan 
Cameron,  called,  from  his  sable  complexion,  Ewan  Dhu.  He 
was  the  last  man  in  Scotland  who  maintained  the  royal  cause 
during  the  great  civil  war,  and  his  constant  incursions  rendered 
him  a  very  unpleasant  neighbour  to  the  republican  garrison  at 
Inverlochy,  now  Fort  William.  The  governor  of  the  fort  de- 
tached a  party  of  three  hundred  men  to  lay  waste  Lochiel's 
possessions,  and  cut  down  his  trees ;  but,  in  a  sudden  and  despe- 
rate attack,  made  upon  them  by  the  chieftain,  with  very  inferior 
numbers,  they  were  almost  all  cut  to  pieces.  The  skirmish  is 
detailed  in  a  curious  memoir  of  Sir  Ewan's  life,  printed  in  the 
Appendix  of  Pennant's  Scottish  Tour. 

"In  this  engagem_ent,  Lochiel  himself  had  several  wonderful 
escapes.  In  the  retreat  of  the  Enghsh,  one  of  the  strongest  and 
bravest  of  the  officers  retired  behind  a  bush,  when  he  observed 
Lochiel  pursuing,  and  seeing  him  unaccompanied  Avith  any,  he 
leaped  out,  and  thought  him  his  prey.  They  met  one  anothei 
with  equal  fury.  The  combat  was  long  and  doubtful ;  the  Eng- 
lish gentleman  had  by  far  the  advantage  in  strength  and  size  ; 
but  Lochiel  exceeding  him  in  nimbleness  and  agility,  in  the  end 
tript  the  sword  out  of  his  hand  :  they  closed,  and  wrestled,  till 
both  fell  to  the  ground,  in  each  other's  arms.  The  English 
officer  got  above  Lochiel,  and  pressed  him  hard,  but  stretching 


324  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


forth  his  neck,  by  attempting  to  disengage  himself,  Lochia],  who 
by  this  time  had  his  hands  at  liberty,  with  his  left  hand  seized 
him  by  the  collar,  and  jumping  at  his  extended  throat,  he  bit  it 
with  his  teeth  quite  through,  and  kept  such  a  hold  of  his  grasp, 
that  he  brought  av/ay  his  mouthful :  this,  he  said,  was  the  sweetest 
bit  he  ever  had  in  his  lifetime.'''' — ^Vol.  i.  p.  375. 


NOTE   IX. 

And  thou,  0  sad  ayid  fatal  mound! 
That  oft  hast  heard  the  death-axe  sound. 

St.  XX.  p.  173. 

Stirling  was  often  polluted  with  noble  blood.  The  fate  of 
^Villiam,  eighth  Earl  of  Douglas,  whom  James  H.  stabbed  in 
Stirling  Castle  with  his  own  hand,  and  while  under  his  royal 
safe-conduct,  is  familiar  to  all  who  read  Scottish  history.  Mur- 
dack,  Duke  of  Albany,  Duncan,  Earl  of  Lenox,  his  father-in- 
law,  and  his  two  sons,  Walter  and  Alexander  Stuart,  were 
executed  at  Stirling,  in  1425.  They  were  beheaded  upon  an 
eminence  without  the  castle  walls,  but  making  part  of  the  same 
hill,  from  whence  they  could  behold  their  strong  castle  of  Doune, 
and  their  extensive  possessions.  This  "  heading-hill,"  as  it  was 
sometimes  termed,  bears  commonly  the  less  terrible  name  of 
Hurly-hacket,  from  its  having  been  the  scene  of  a  courtly  amuse- 
ment alluded  to  by  Sir  David  Lindsay,  who  says  of  the  pastimej 
in  which  the  young  king  was  engaged, 

«'  Some  harled  him  to  the  Hurly-hacket ;" 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  325 


ivhich  consisted  in  sliding,  in  some  sort  of  chair  it  may  be  sup- 
posed, from  top  to  bottom  of  a  smooth  bank.  The  boys  of  Edin- 
burgh, about  twenty  years  ago,  used  to  play  at  the  Hurly-hacket 
on  the  Calton  Hill,  using  for  their  seat  a  horse's  skull 


NOTE  X. 

The  burghers  hold  their  sports  to-day. 

St.  XX.  p.  174. 

Every  burgh  of  Scotland,  of  the  least  note,  but  more  espe- 
cially the  considerable  towns,  had  their  solemn  play,  or  festival, 
when  feats  of  archery  were  exhibited,  and  prizes  distributed  to 
those  who  excelled  in  wrestling,  hurling  the  bar,  and  other  gym- 
nastic exercises  of  the  period.  Stirling,  a  usual  place  of  royal 
residence,  was  not  likely  to  be  deficient  in  pomp  upon  such  occa- 
sions, especially  since  James  V.  was  very  partial  to  them.  His 
ready  participation  in  these  popular  amusements  was  one  cause 
of  his  acquiring  the  title  of  King  of  the  Commons,  or  Rex 
Plebeiorum,  as  Leslie  has  Latinized  it.  The  usual  prize  to  the 
best  shooter  was  a  silver  arrow.  Such  a  one  is  preserved  at 
Selkirk  and  at  Peebles.  At  Dumfries,  a  silver  gun  was  substi- 
tuted, and  the  contention  transferred  to  fire-arms.  The  ceremony, 
as  there  performed,  is  the  subject  of  an  excellent  Scottish  poem, 
L V  M.-.  John  MLvne,  <^ntit]°d  th-^^  Sill-^r  G-in,  v.-hich  surp-isses  the 
cfTorib  of  Fergucon,  und  cvimes  :ieai  ihost  of  I2urn;5. 

Of  .James's  attachment  to  archery,  Pitscottie,  the  faithful, 
though  ru  Je  recorder  of  the  manners  of  that  period,  has  given  us 
evidence : 

2E 


326  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


"In  this  year  there  came  an  embassador  out  of  England, 
named  Lord  William  Howard,  with  a  bishop  with  him,  with 
many  other  gentlemen,  to  the  number  of  threescore  horse, 
which  were  all  the  able  men  and  waled  (picked)  men  for  all 
kind  of  games  and  pastimes,  shooting,  louping,  running,  wrest- 
ling, and  casting  of  the  stone,  but  they  were  well  'sayed  (essayed 
or  tried)  ere  they  past  out  of  Scotland,  and  that  by  their  own  pro- 
vocation ;  but  ever  they  tint :  till  at  last,  the  Q,ueen  of  Scotland, 
the  king's  mother,  favoured  the  Englishmen,  because  she  was 
the  King  of  England's  sister :  and  therefore  she  took  an  enter- 
prise of  archery  on  the  Englishmen's  hands,  contrary  her  son 
the  king,  and  any  six  in  Scotland  that  he  would  wale,  either 
gentlemen  or  yeom.en,  that  the  Englishmen  should  shoot  against 
them,  either  at  pricks,  revers,  or  buls,  as  the  Scots  pleased. 

"The  king  hearing  this  of  his  mother,  was  content,  and  gart 
her  pawn  a  hundred  crowns,  and  a  tun  of  wine,  upon  the 
Englishmen's  hands ;  and  he  incontinent  laid  down  as  much  for 
the  Scottish  men.  The  field  and  ground  was  chosen  in  St. 
Andrews,  and  three  landed  men  and  three  yeomen  chosen  to 
shoot  against  the  Englishmen,  to  wit,  David  Wemyss  of  that 
ilk,  David  Arnot  of  that  ilk,  and  Mr.  John  Wedderburn,  vicar 
of  Dundee ;  the  yeomen,  John  Thomson,  in  Leith,  Stephen 
Taburner,  with  a  piper,  called  Alexander  Bailie ;  they  shot  very 
near,  and  warred  (worsted)  the  Englishmen  of  the  enterprise 
and  wan  the  hundred  crowns  and  the  tun  of  wine,  which  mada 
tie  king  very  merry  that  his  men  wan  the  victory." — p.  147. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  327 


NOTE  XL 
Robin  Hood. 


St.  xxii.  p.  176. 

The  exhibilion  of  tliis  renowned  outlaw  and  his  band  was  a 
lavourite  frolic  at  such  festivals  as  we  are  describing.  This 
sporting,  in  which  kings  did  not  disdain  to  be  actors,  was  prohi- 
bited in  Scotland  upon  the  Reformation,  b}^  a  statute  of  the  6th 
Parliament  of  Queen  Mary,  c.  61,  A.  D.  1555,  which  ordered, 
under  heavy  penalties,  that,  ".na  manner  of  person  be  chosen 
Robert  Hude,  nor  Little  John,  Abbot  of  Unreason,  dueen  of  May, 
iior  otherwise."  But,  1561,  "the  rascal  multitude,"  says  John 
Knox,  "  were  stirred  up  to  make  a  Robin  Hude,  whilk  enormity 
was  of  mony  years  left  and  damned  by  statute  and  act  of  Parha- 
ment ;  yet  would  they  not  be  forbidden."  Accordingly,  they 
raised  a  very  serious  tumult,  and  at  length  made  prisoners  the 
magistrates  who  endeavoured  to  suppress  it,  and  would  not 
release  them  till  they  extorted  a  formal  promise  that  no  one 
should  be  punished  for  his  share  of  the  disturbance.  It  would 
seem,  from  the  complaints  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Kirk, 
that  these  profane  festivities  were  continued  down  to  1592.' 
Bold  Robin  was,  to  say  the  least,  equally  successful  in  main- 
taining his  ground  against  the  reformed  clergy  of  England :  for 
the  simple  and  evangelical  Latimer  complains  of  coming  to  a 
country  church,  where  the  people  refused  to  hear  him,  because 
it  was  Robin  Hood's  day ;  and  his  mitre  and  rochet  were  fain  to 
give  way  to  the  village  pastime.  Much  curious  information  on 
this  subject  may  be  found  in  the  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  the 

'  Book  of  the  Universal  Kirk,  p.  414, 


828  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


late  Mr.  Ritson's  edition  of  the  songs  respecting  this  memorable 
outlaw.  The  game  of  Robin  Hood  was  usually  acted  in  May  ; 
and  he  was  associated  with  the  morrice-dancers,  on  whom  so 
much  illustration  has  been  bestowed  by  the  commentators  on 
Shakspeare.  A  very  livel}^  picture  of  these  festivities,  containing 
a  great  deal  of  curious  information  on  the  subject  of  the  private 
life  and  amusements  of  our  ancestors,  was  thrown,  by  the  late 
ingenious  Mr.  Strutt,  into  his  romance  entitled  Glueen-hoo  Hall, 
published  after  his  death,  in  1808. 


NOTE  XII. 

Indifferent  as  to  archer  ivighf, 

The  Monarch  gave  the  arrow  bright. 

St.  xxii.  p.  177. 

The  Douglas  of  the  poem  is  an  imaginary  person,  a  supposed 
uncle  of  the  Earl  of  Angus.  But  the  king's  behaviour  during  an 
unexpected  interview  with  the  Laird  of  Kilspindie,  one  of  the 
banished  Douglasses,  under  circumstances  similar  to  those  in 
the  text,  is  imitated  from  a  real  story  told  by  Hume  of  Gods- 
croft.  I  would  have  availed  myself  more  fully  of  the  simple  and 
affecting  circumstances  of  the  old  history,  had  they  not  been 
already  woven  into  a  pathetic  ballad  by  my  friend  Mr,  Finlay.* 

"  His  (the  king's)  implacability  (towards  the  familj'-  of  Dou- 
glas) did  nlso  nppe.^r  in  his  carriage  toward-^  Archibali  of  Kils- 
pindie, \\hom  he,  when  he  was  a  child,  loved  suigulaily  well  loi 

'  See  Scottish  Historical  and  Romantic  Ballads.  Glasgow,  1808, 
vol.  ii.  p.  117. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  329 


liis  ability  of  body,  and  was  wont  to  call  him  liis  Gray-Steill.^ 
Archibald,  being  banished  into  England,  could  not  v/t'U  comport 
with  the  humour  of  that  nation,  which  he  though*:  to  be  too 
proud,  and  that  they  had  too  high,  a  conceit  of  themselves, 
■oined  with  a  contempt  and  despising  of  all  others.  Wherefore, 
being  wearied  of  that  life,  and  remembering  the  king's  favour  of 
old  towards  him,  he  determined  to  try  the  king's  mercifulness 
and  clemency.  So  he  comes  into  Scotland,  and  taking  occasion 
of  the  king's  hunting  in  the  park  at  Stirling,  he  casts  himself  to 
be  in  his  v*-ay,  as  he  was  coming  home  to  the  castle.  So  soon 
as  the  king  saw  him  afar  ofT,  ere  he  came  near,  ho  guessed  it 
was  he,  and  said  to  one  of  his  courtiers,  yonder  is  my  Gray- 
Steill,  Archibald  of  Kinspindie,  if  he  be  alive.  The  other 
answered,  that  it  could  not  be  he,  and  that  he  durst  not  come 
into  the  king's  presence.  The  king  approaching,  he  fell  upon 
his  knees  and  craved  pardon,  and  promised  from  thenceforward 
to  abstain  from  meddling  in  public  affairs,  and  to  lead  a  quiet 
and  private  life.  The  king  went  by,  without  giving  him  any 
answer,  and  trotted  a  good  round  pace  up  the  hill.  Kilspindie 
followed,  and,  though  he  wore  on  him  a  secret,  or  shirt  of  mail, 
for  his  particular  enemies,  was  as  soon  at  the  caslle-gate  as  the 
king.  There  he  sat  him  down  upon  a  stone  without,  and 
entreated  some  of  the  king's  servants  for  a  cup  of  drink,  being 
weary  and  thirsty  ;  but  they,  fearing  the  king's  displeasure,  durst 
give  him  none.  When  the  king  was  set  at  his  dinner,  he  asked 
what  he  had  done,  what  he  had  said,  and  whither  he  had  gone  - 
It  was  told  him  that  he  had  desired  a  cup  of  drink,  and  had 
gotten  none.  The  king  reproved  them  very  sharply  for  their 
discourtesy,  and  told  them,  that  if  he  had  not  taken  an  oath  that 

'  A  champion  of  popular  romance.     See  Ellis's  Romances,  f  ol.  iii. 
an -J 


330  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 


no  Douglas  should  ever  serve  him,  he  would  have  received  him 
into  his  service,  for  he  had  seen  him  some  time  a  man  of  great 
ability.  Then  he  sent  him  word  to  go  to  Leith,  and  expect  his 
further  pleasure.  Then  some  kinsmen  of  David  Falconer,  the 
cannonier,  that  was  slain  at  Tantallon,  began  to  quarrel  with 
Archibald  about  the  matter,  Avherewith  the  king  showed  himself 
not  v/ell  pleased  when  he  heard  of  it.  Then  he  commanded  him 
lo  go  to  France  for  a  certain  space,  till  he  heard  further  from 
him.  And  so  he  did,  and  died  shortly  after.  This  gave  occa- 
sion to  the  King  of  England  (Henry  VIII.)  to  blame  his  nephew, 
alleging  the  old  sa3nng,  '  that  ^a  king's  face  should  give  grace.' 
For  this  Archibald  (whatsoever  were  Angus's  or  Sir  George's 
fault)  had  not  been  principal  actor  of  any  thing,  nor  no  coun- 
sellor nor  stirrer  up,  but  only  a  follower  of  his  friends,  and  that 
noways  cruelly  disposed." — Hume  of  Godscroft,  ii.  107. 


NOTE  XIII. 

Prize  of  the  wrestling  match,  the  King 
To  Douglas  gave  a  golden  ring. 

St.  xxiii.  p.  177. 

The  usual  prize  of  a  wrestling  was  a  ram  and  a  ring,  but  the 
animal  would  have  embarrassed  my  story.  Thus,  in  the  Cokes 
Tale  of  Gamelyn,  ascribed  to  Chaucer : 


"  There  happed  to  be  there  beside 
Tryed  a  wrestling ; 
And  therefore  there  was  y-setten 
A  ram  and  als  a  ring." 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  331 


Again  tile  Litil  Geste  of  Robin  tlooj  : 

"  By  a  bridge  was  a  wrestling, 

And  there  tarryed  was  he, 
And  there  was  all  the  best  yemen 

Of  all  the  west  countre3\ 
A  full  fayre  game  there  was  set  up, 

A  white  bull  up  y-pight, 
A  great  courser  with  saddle  and  brydle. 

With  gold  burnished  full  bryght ; 
A  payre  of  gloves,  a  red  golde  ringe, 

A  pipe  of  wyne,  good  fay  ; 
What  man  bereth  him  best,  I  wis, 

The  prise  shall  bear  away." 

Ritson's  Robin  Hood,  vol,  i. 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   SIXTH. 


NOTE  I. 


These  drew  not  for  their  fields  the  sivord. 
Like  tenants  of  a  feudal  lord. 

St.  iii.  p.  191, 

The  Scottish  armies  consisted  chiefly  of  the  nobility  and 
tjarons,  with  their  vassals,  who  held  lands  under  them,  for  raih- 
lary  service  by  themselves  and  their  tenants.  The  patriarchal 
influence  exercised  by  the  heads  of  clans  in  the  fiiij-hlands  and 
Borders  Avas  of  a  different  nature,  and  sometitriej  at  variance 
with  feudal  principles.  It  flowed  from  the  Fatria  Potestas, 
exercised  by  the  chieftain  as  representing  the  original  father  of 
the  whole  name,  and  was  often  obeyed  in  contradiction  to  the 
feudal  superior.  James  V.  seems  first  to  have  introduced,  in 
addition  to  the  militia  furnished  from  these  sources,  the  service 
of  a  small  number  of  mercenaries,  who  formed  a  body-guard, 
called  the  Foot  Band.  The  satirical  poet.  Sir  David  Lindsay, 
(or  the  person  who  wrote  the  prologue  to  his  play  of  the  "  Three 
Estates,")  has  introduced  Finlay  of  the  Foot  Band,  who,  after 
much  swaggering  upon  the  stage,  is  at  length  put  to  flight  by 
the  Fool,  who  terrifies  him  by  means  of  a  sheep's  skull  upon  9 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  333 


pole.  I  have  rather  chosea  to  give  them  the  harsh  features  of 
the  mercenary  soldiers  of  the  period,  than  of  this  Scotli-h  Thraso. 
These  partook  of  the  character  of  the  Adventurous  Companions 
of  Froissart,  or  the  Condottieri  of  ItaJy. 

One  of  the  best  and  liveliest  traits  of  such  manners  is  the  last 
will  of  a  leader,  called  GefTroy  Tete  Noir,  who  having  been 
slightly  wounded  in  a  skirmish,  his  intemperance  brought  on  a 
mortal  disease.  When  he  found  himself  dying  he  summoned  to 
his  bedside  the  adventurers  whom  he  commanded,  and  thus 
addressed  them : 

"Fayre  sirs,  quod  GefTray,  I  know  w^ell  ye  have  alwayes 
served  and  honoured  me  as  men  ought  to  serve  their  soveraygne 
and  capitayne,  and  I  shal  be  the  gladder  if  ye  will  agre  to  have 
to  your  capitayne  one  that  is  descended  of  my  blode.  Behold 
here  Aleyne  Roux,  my  cosyn,  and  Peter  his  brother,  who  are 
men  of  arms  and  of  my  blode.  I.  require  you  to  mak  Aleyne 
your  capitayne,  and  to  swere  to  him  faythe,  obeysaunce,  love, 
and  loyalte,  here  in  my  presence,  and  also  to  his  brother:  howe 
be  it,  I  wyll  that  Aleyne  have  the  soverayne  charge.  Sir,  quod 
they,  we  are  well  content,  for  ye  hauve  ryght  well  chosen. 
There  all  the  companyons  made  theym  servyant  to  Aleyne  Roux 
and  to  Peter  his  brother.  Whan  all  that  was  done,  then  Geffraye 
spake  agayne,  and  sayd :  Nowe,  sirs,  ye  hauve  obej^ed  to  my 
pleasure,  I  canne  you  great  thanke ;  wherefore,  sirs,  I  wyll  ye 
ha^^e  parte  of  that  ye  have  holpen  to  conquere.  I  say  unto  you, 
that  in  yonder  chest  that  ye  se  stande  yonder,  therein  is  to  the 
some  of  XXX  thousande  frankes, — I  wyll  give  them  accordynge 
to  my  conscyence,  Wyll  ye  all  be  content  to  fulfil  my  testa- 
ment;  hcvve  save  ye?  Sir,  quod  they,  we  be  ryght  well 
contente  to  fulfyl  your  commaundement.  Thane  first,  quod  he, 
I  wyll  and  give  to  the  thappell  of  Saynte  George,  he'-e  in  this 


334  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH. 


castell,  for  the  reparacions  therev">f,  a  thousands  and  five  huudredc 
frankes :  '^nd  I  give  to  my  lover,  who  hath  truly  served  me,  two 
thousand  and  five  hundrede  frankes :  and  also  give  to  Aleyne 
Roux,  your  newe  capitayne,  foure  thousande  frankes  :  also  to  the 
varieties  of  my  chambre  I  gyve  fyve  hundrede  frankes.  To 
mine  offycers  I  gyve  a  thousand  and  five  hundrede  frankes. 
The  rest  I  gyve  and  bequeath  as  I  shall  shew  you.  Ye  be  upon 
a  thyrtie  companyons  all  of  one  sorte  :  ye  ought  to  be  bretherne, 
and  all  of  one  alyaunce,  without  debate,  ryotte,  or  stryfe  among 
you.  All  this  that  I  have  shewed  you  ye  shall  fynde  in  yonder 
cheste.  I  wyll  that  ye  departe  all  the  resydue  equally  and 
truelljr  betwcne  you  thyrtie.  And  if  ye  be  nat  thus  content,  but 
that  the  devyille  wyll  set  debate  betwone  you,  than  beholde 
yonder  is  a  strong  axe,  breke  up  the  coffer,  and  gette  it  who  can. 
To  those  w^ords  every  man  ansuered  and  said,  Sir,  and  dere 
maister,  we  are  and  shall  be  all  of  one  accorde.  Sir,  we  have 
so  mocli  loved  and  douted  you,  that  we  will  breke  no  coffer,  nor 
breke  no  poynt  of  that  ye  have  ordayned  and  commaunded." — 
Lord  Berners'  Froissart. 


NOTE  11. 

Get  thee  an  ape,  and  trudge  the  land. 
The  leader  of  a  juggler  hand. 

St.  vi.  p.  194. 

The  jongleurs,  or  jugglers,  as  we  learn  from  the  elaborate 
work  of  the  late  Mr.  Strutt,  on  the  sports  and  pastimes  of  the 
people  of  England,  used  to  call  in  the  aid  of  various  assista  its,  to 
render  these  performances  as  captivating  as  possible.  The  glee- 
maiden  was  a  necessary  attendant.     Her  duty  w^as  tumbling  and 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  33f 


dancing;  and  therefore  the  Anglo-Saxon  version  of  Saint  Mark's 
Gospel  states  Flerodias  to  have  vauked  or  tumbled  before  Knig 
Herod.  In  Scotland,  these  poor  creatures  seem,  even  at  a  late 
period,  to  have  been  bondswomen  to  their  masters,  as  appears 
from  a  case  reported  by  Fountainhall.  "Reid  the  mountebank 
pursues  Scot  of  Harden  and  his  lady,  for  stealing  away  from  him 
a  little  girl,  called  the  tumbling  lassie,  that  danced  upon  his 
stage  ;  and  he  claimed  damages,  and  produced  a  contract,  where- 
by he  bought  her  from  her  mother  for  30/.  Scots.  But  we  have 
no  slaves  in  Scotland,  and  mothers  cannot  sell  tlieir  bairns ;  and 
physicians  attested  the  employment  of  tumbling  would  kill  her ; 
and  her  joints  were  now  grown  stiff,  and  she  declined  lo 
return  ;  though  she  was  at  least  a  'prentice,  and  so  could  not  run 
away  from  her  master:  yet  some  cited  Moses's  law,  that  if  a 
servant  shelter  himself  with  thee,  against  his.  master's  cruelty, 
thou  shalt  surely  not  deliver  him  up.  The  lords,  rcnltenfc 
cancellario,  assoilzied  Harden,  on  the  27th  of  January,  (1387.)" 
— Fountainhall's  Decisions,  vol.  i.  p.  439.' 

The  facetious  qualities  of  the  ape  soon  rendered  him  an 
acceptable  addition  to  the  strolling  band  of  the  jongleur.  Ben 
Jonson,  in  his  splenetic  introduction  to  the  comedy  of  "  Bartholo- 
mew Fair,"   is   at   pains   to   inform   the   audience  "  that   he   has 


'  Though  less  to  my  purpose  I  cannot  help  noticing  a  circumstance 
respecting  another  of  this  Mr.  Raid's  attendants,  which  occurred  during 
James  XL's  zeal  for  Catholic  proselytism,  and  is  told  by  Fountainhall, 
with  dry  Scottish  irony.  ^^  January  17th,  1687. — Reid  the  mounteliank 
is  received  into  the  Popish  church,  and  one  of  his  blackamoores  was 
persuaded  to  accept  of  baptism  from  the  Popish  priests,  and  to  turn 
Christian  papist ;  which  was  a  great  trophy :  he  was  called  James,  after 
the  king  and  chancellor,  and  the  Apostle  James." — Ibid.  p.  410, 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH. 


ne'er  a  swoiJ-and-biickler  man  in  his  Fai;,  nor  a  juggler,  with  a 
well-educated  ape,  to  come  over  the  chaine  for  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, and  back  again  for  the  prince,  and  sit  still  on  his  haunches 
for  the  Pope  and  the  King  of  Spaine." 


NOTE  III. 

Thvt  stirring  air  which  peals  on  high, 
0''er  Dermid's  race  our  victory, 
Strike  it. 

St.  xiv.  p.  203. 

There  are  several  instances,  at  least  in  tradition,  of  persons 
so  much  attached  to  particular  tunes,  as  to  require  to  hear  them 
on  their  death-bed.  Such  an  anecdote  is  mentioned  by  the  late 
Mr.  Riddel  of  Glenriddel,  in  his  collection  of  Border  tunes, 
respecting  an  air  called  the  "  Dandling  of  the  Bairns,"  for  which 
a  certain  GtJlovldian  laird  is  said  to  have  evinced  this  strong 
mark  of  partiality.  It  is  popularly  told  of  a  famous  freebooter, 
that  he  composed  the  tune  known  by  the  name  of  Macpherson's 
Rant  while  under  sentence  of  death,  and  played  it  at  the  gallows- 
tree.  Some  spirited  words  have  been  adapted  to  it  by  Burns. 
A  similar  story  is  recounted  of  a  Welch  bard,  who  composed  and 
played  on  his  death-bed  the  air  called  Dafydchj  Garregg  JVen. 

But  the  most  curious  example  is  given  by  Brantome,  of  a 
maid  of  honour  at  the  court  of  France,  entitled.  Mademoiselle 
de  Limeuil.  "Durant  sa  maladie,  dont  elle  trespassa,  jamais 
elle  ne  cctsa,  ains  causa  tousjours  ;  car  elle  estoit  fort  grande 
parleuse,  brocardeuse,  et  tres-bien  et  fort  a  propos,  et  tres-belle 
avee  cela.  Gluand  I'heure  de  sa  fin  fut  venue,  elle  fit  venir  o 
soy  son   valet  (ainsi  que  le    filles    de   la   cour   en   ont   chacune 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  337 


un),  qui  s'appelloit  Julien,  et  scavoit  tres-bien  jouer  du  violon. 
'Julien,'  lui  dit  elle,  'prenez  vostre  violon,  et  sonnez  moy  tousjours 
jusques  a  ce  que  me  voyez  morte  (car  je  m'y  en  vais),  la  defaite 
des  Suisses,  et  le  mieux  que  vous  pourrez,  et  quand  vous  serez 
sur  le  mot,  '  Tout  est  perdu,'  sonnez  le  par  quatre  ou  cing  fois, 
le  plus  piteusement  que  vous  pourrez,  ce  qui  fit  I'autre,  et  elle- 
mesme  luy  aidoit  de  la  voix,  et  quand  ce  vint '  tout  est  perdu,' 
elle  le  reitera  par  deux  fois  ;  et  se  tournant  de  I'autre  coste  du 
clievet,  elle  dit  a  ses  compagnes :  '  Tout  est  perdu  a  ce  coup,  et 
a  bon  escient ;'  et  ainsi  deceda.  Voila  une  morte  joyeuse  et 
plaisante.  Je  liens  ce  conte  de  deux  de  ses  compagnes,  dignes 
de  foi,  qui  virent  jouer  ce  myst^re." — CEuvres  de  Brantome, 
iii.  507. 

The  tune  to  which  this  fair  lady  chose  to  make  her  final  exit, 
was  composed  on  the  defeat  of  the  Swiss  at  Marignano.  The 
burden  is  quoted  by  Panurge,  in  Rabelais,  and  consists  of  these 
words,  imitating  the  jargon  of  the  Swiss,  which  is  a  mixture  of 
French  and  German : 

Tout  est  verlore 
La  Tintelore, 
Tout  est  verlore  bi  Got ! 


NOTE  IV. 

Battle  of  Bear  an  Duine. 

St.  XV.  p.  204. 

A  skirmish  actually  took  place  at  a  pass  thus  called  in  the 
Trosachs,  and  closed  with  the  remarkable  incident  mentioned  in 
the  text.     It  is  greatly  posterior  in  date  to  the  reign  of  Janies  V 


338  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH. 


"In  this  roughly  wooded  island,^  the  country  joeople  secreted 
tneir  wives  and  children,  and  their  most  valuable  effects,  from 
the  rapacity  of  Cromwell's  soldiers,  during  their  inroad  into  this 
country,  in  the  time  of  the  republic.  These  invaders,  not  ventur- 
ing to  ascend  by  the  ladders,  along  the  side  of  the  lake,  took  a 
more  circuitous  road,  through  the  heart  of  the  Trosachs,  the  most 
frequented  path  at  that  time,  which  penetrates  the  wilderness 
about  half  way  between  Binean  and  the  lake,  by  a  tract  called 
Yea-chilleach,  or  the  Old  Wife's  Bog. 

"  In  one  of  the  defiles  of  this  by-road,  the  men  of  the  country 
at  that  time  hung  upon  the  rear  of  the  invading  enemy,  and  shot 
one  of  Cromwell's  men,  whose  grave  marks  the  scene  of  action, 
and  gives  name  to  that  pass."  In  revenge  of  this  insult  the 
soldiers  resolved  to  plunder  the  island,  to  violate  the  women, 
and  put  the  children  to  death.  With  this  brutal  intention,  one 
of  the  party,  more  expert  than  the  rest,  swam  towards  the  island, 
to  fetch  the  boat  to  his  comrades  which  had  carried  the  women 
to  their  asylum,  and  lay  moored  in  one  of  the  creeks.  His 
companions  stood  on  the  shore  of  the  main  land,  in  full  view  of 
all  that  was  to  pass,  waiting  anxiously  for  his  return  with  the 
boat.  But  just  as  the  swimmer  had  got  to  the  nearest  point  of 
the  island,  and  was  laying  hold  of  a  black  rock  to  get  on  shore, 
a  heroine,  who  stood  on  the  very  point  where  he  meant  to  land, 
hastily  snatching  a  dagger  from  below  her  apron,  with  one 
stroke  severed  his  head  from  the  body.  His  party  seeing  this 
disaster,  and  relinquishing  all  future  hope  of  revenge  or  con- 
quest, made  the  best  of  their  way  out  of  their  perilous  situation. 

'  That  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  Loch-Katrine,  so  often  mentioned 
in  the  text. 

^  Beallach  ap  duine. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  339 


This  amazon's  great-grandson  lives  at  Bridge  of  Turk,  who, 
besides  others,  attests  the  anecdote." — Sketch  of  the  Scenery 
near  Cullender.  Stirhng,  1806,  p.  20.  I  have  only  to  add  to 
this  account,  that  the  heroine's  name  was  Helen  Stuart. 


NOTE  V. 

v^nd  Snowdoun^s  knight  is  Scotland'' s  King. 

St.  xxvi.  p.  219. 

This  discovery  will  probably  remind  the  reader  of  the  beautiful 
Arabian  tale  of  //  Bondocani.  Yet  the  incident  is  not  borrowed 
from  that  elegant  story,  but  from  Scottish  tradition.  James  V., 
of  whom  we  are  treating,  was  a  monarch  whose  good  and  benevo- 
lent intentions  often  rendered  his  romantic  freaks  venial,  if  not 
respectable,  since,  from  his  anxious  attention  to  the  interests  of 
the  lower  and  most  oppressed  class  of  his  subjects,  he  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  popularly  termed  the  King  of  the  Commons. 
For  the  purpose  of  seeing  that  justice  was  regularly  administered, 
and  frequently  from  the  less  justifiable  motive  of  gallantry,  he 
used  to  traverse  the  vicinage  of  his  several  palaces  in  various 
disguises.  The  two  excellent  comic  songs,  entitled  "  The  Gaber- 
lunzie  Man,"  and  "We'll  gae  nae  mair  a  roving,"  are  said  to 
have  been  founded  upon  the  success  of  his  amorous  adventures 
when  travelling  in  the  disguise  of  a  beggar.  The  latter  is 
perhaps  the  best  comic  ballad  in  any  language. 

Another  adventure,  which  had  nearly  cost  James  his  life,  is 
said  to  have  taken  place  at  the  village  of  Cramond,  near  Edin- 
burgh, where  he  had  rendered  his  addresses  acceptable  to  a 
pretty  girl  of  the  lower  rank.  Four  or  five  persons,  whether 
relations  or  lovers   of  his   mistress  is  uncertain,  beset  the   dis- 


340  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH. 


guised  monarch,  as  he  returned  from  his  rendezvous.  Naturallj 
gallant,  and  an  admirable  master  of  his  weapon,  the  king  took 
post  on  the  high  and  narrow  bridge  over  the  Almond  river,  and 
defended  himself  bravely  with  his  sword.  A  peasant,  who  was 
thrashing  in  a  neighbouring  barn,  came  out  upon  the  noise,  and, 
Avhether  moved  by  compassion  or  b}^  natural  gallantry,  took  the 
weaker  side,  and  laid  about  with  his  flail  so  effectually  as  to 
disperse  the  assailants,  well  thrashed,  even  according  to  the 
letter.  He  then  conducted  the  king  into  his  barn,  where  his 
guest  requested  a  basin  and  towel,  to  remove  the  stains  of  the 
broil.  This  being  procured  with  difficulty,  James  employed 
himself  in  learning  what  was  the  summit  of  his  dehverer's 
earthly  wishes,  and  found  that  they  were  bounded  by  the  desire 
of  possessing,  in  property,  the  farm  of  Braehead,  upon  which  he 
laboured  as  a  bondsman.  The  lands  chanced  to  belong  to  the 
crown ;  and  James  directed  him  to  come  to  the  palace  of  Holy 
Rood,  and  inquire  for  the  Guidman  (i.  e.,  farmer)  of  Ballan- 
giech,  a  name  by  which  he  was  known  in  his  eA'Cursions,  and 
which  answered  to  the  Jl  Bondocani  of  Haroun  Alraschid.  He 
presented  himself  accordingly,  and  found,  with  due  astonish- 
ment, that  he  had  saved  his  monarch's  life,  and  that  he  was  to 
be  gratified  with  a  crown  charter  of  the  lands  of  Braehead, 
under  the  service  of  presenting  a  ewer,  basin,  and  towel,  for 
the  king  to  wash  his  hands,  when  he  shall  happen  to  pass  the 
Bridge  of  Cramond.  This  person  was  ancestor  of  the  Howisons 
of  Braehead,  in  Mid  Lothian,  a  respectable  family,  who  continue 
to  hold  the  lands  (now  passed  into  the  female  line)  under  the 
same  tenure. 

Another  of  James's  frolics  is  thus  narrated  by  Mr.  Campbell, 
from  the  Statistical  Account.  "  Being  once  benighted  when  oui 
a  hunting,  and  separated  from  his  attendants,  he  happened  tc 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  34i 


L^nter  a  cottage  in  the  midst  of  the  moor,  at  the  foot  of  the  Ochi! 
Fliils,  near  Alloa,  where,  unknown,  he  was  kindly  received.  In 
order  to  regale  their  unexpected  guest,  the  gudeman  {i.  e., 
landlord,  farmer)  desired  the  gudeivife  to  fetch  the  hen  that 
roosted  nearest  the  cock,  which  is  always  the  plumpest,  for  the 
stranger's  supper.  The  king,  highly  pleased  with  his  night's 
lodging  and  hospitable  entertainment,  told  mine  host,  at  parting, 
that  he  should  be  glad  to  return  his  civility,  and  requested  that 
the  first  time  he  came  to  Stirling  he  would  call  at  the  castle,  and 
inquire  for  the  Gudeman  of  B alien gidch..  Donaldson,  the  land- 
lord, did  not  fail  to  call  on  the  Gudeman  of  Ballengidch,  when 
his  astonishment  at  finding  that  the  king  had  been  his  guest 
afforded  no  small  amusement  to  the  merry  monarch  and  his 
courtiers ;  an  1  to  carry  on  the  pleasantry,  he  was  thenceforth 
designated  by  James  with  the  title  of  King  of  the  Moors,  which 
name  and  designation  have  descended  from  father  to  son  ever 
since,  and  they  have  continued  in  possession  of  the  identical 
spot,  the  property  of  Mr.  Erskine  of  Mar,  till  very  lately,  when 
this  gentleman,  with  reluctance,  turned  out  the  descendant  and 
representative  of  the  King  of  the  Moors,  on  account  of  his 
majesty's  invincible  indolence,  and  great  dishke  to  reform  or 
innovation  of  any  kind,  although,  from  the  spirited  example  of 
his  neighbour  tenants  on  the  same  estate,  he  is  convinced  similar 
exertion  would  promote  his  advantage." 

The  author  requests  permission  yet  farther  to  verify  the  sub- 
ject of  his  poem,  by  an  extract  from  the  genealogical  work  of 
Buchanan  of  Auchmar,  upon  Scottish  surnames. 

"  This  John  Buchanan  of  Auchmar  and  Arnpryor  was  after 
wards   termed   King  of  Kippen,^   upon  the   followmg  account 

'  A  small  district  of  Perthshire. 


342  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH. 


King  James  Y.,  a  very  sociable,  debonair  prince,  residing  a; 
Stirling,  in  Buchanan  of  Arnpryor's  time,  carriers  were  very 
frequently  passing  along  the  common  road,  being  near  Arn- 
pryor's house,  with  necessaries  for  the  use  of  the  king's  family ; 
and  he,  having  some  extraordinary  occasion,  ordered  one  of 
these  carriers  to  leave  his  load  at  his  house,  and  he  would  pay 
him  for  it ;  which  the  carrier  refused  to  do,  telling  him  he  was 
the  king's  carrier,  and  his  load  for  his  Majesty's  use ;  to  which 
Arnpryor  seemed  to  have  small  regard,  compelling  the  carrier, 
in  the  end,  to  leave  his  load;  telling  him  if  King  James  was 
King  of  Scotland,  he  was  King  of  Kippen,  so  that  it  was  reason- 
able he  should  share  with  his  neighbour  king  in  some  of  these 
loads,  so  frequently  carried  that  road.  The  carrier  representing 
this  usage,  and  telling  the  story,  as  Arnpryor  spoke  it,  to  some 
of  the  king's  servants,  it  came  at  length  to  his  majesty's  ears, 
who,  shortly  thereafter,  with  a  few  attendants,  came  to  visit  his 
neighbour  king,  who  was  in  the  mean  time  at  dinner.  King 
James  having  sent  a  servant  to  demand  access,  vras  denied  the 
same  by  a  tall  fellow  with  a  battle-axe,  who  stood  porter  at  the 
gate,  telling,  there  could  be  no  access  till  dinner  was  over.  This 
answer  not  satisfying  the  king,  he  sent  to  demand  access  a  second 
time ;  upon  which  he  was  desired  by  the  porter  to  desist,  other- 
wise he  would  find  cause  to  repent  his  rudeness.  His  majesty 
finding  this  method  would  not  do,  desired  the  porter  to  tell  his 
master  the  Goodman  of  Ballageigh  desired  to  speak  with  the 
Kmg  of  Kippen.  The  porter  telhng  Arnpryor  so  much,  he,  in 
all  humble  manner,  came  and  received  the  king,  and  having 
entertained  him  with  much  sumptuousness  and  jollity,  became  so 
agreeable  to  King  James,  that  he  allowed  him  to  take  so  much  of 
any  provision  he  found  carrying  that  road  as  he  had  occasion  for 
and  seeing  he  made  the  first  visit,  desired  Arnpryor  in  a  few 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  343 


days  to  return  him  a  second  to  Stirling,  which  he  performed,  and 
continued  in  very  much  favour  witti  the  king,  always  thereafter 
being  termed  King  of  Kippen  while  he  lived." — Buchanan's 
Essay  upon  the  Family  of  Buchanan.  Edin.  1775,  8vo.  p.  74. 
The  readers  of  Ariosto  must  give  credit  for  the  amiable  fes- 
lures  with  which  he  is  represented,  since  he  is  generally  consi- 
dered as  the  prototype  of  Zerbino,  the  most  interesting  hero  of 
the  Orlando  Furioso. 


NOTE  VI. 

Stirling's  Toiuer 

Of  yore  the  name  of  Snoivdoun  claims. 

St.  xxviii.  p.  221. 

Wilham  of  Worcester,  who  wrote  about  the  middle  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  calls  Stirling  Castle  Snowdoun.  Sir  David 
Lindsay  bestows  the  same  epithet  upon  it  in  his  Complaint  of  the 
Papingo : 

"Adieu,  fair  Snawdoun,  with  thy  towers  high, 
Thy  chaple-royal,  park,  and  table  round: 
May,  June,  and  July,  would  I  dwell  in  thee, 
Were  I  a  man,  to  hear  thebirdis  sound, 
Whilk  doth  againe  thy  royal  rock  rebound." 

Mr.  Chalmers,  in  his  late  excellent  edition  of  Sir  David  Lind- 
say's works,  has  refuted  the  chimerical  derivation  of  Snawdoun 
from  sncdding,  or  cutting.  It  was  probably  derived  from  the 
romantic  legend  which  connected  Stirling  with  King  Arthur,  to 


344  NOTES    TO    CAxNTO    SIX7  H 


which  the  mention  of  the  Round  Table  gives  countenance.  The 
ring  within  which  jousts  were  formerly  practised,  in  the  castle 
park,  is  still  called  the  Round  Table.  Snawdoun  is  the  official 
title  of  one  of  the  Scottish  heralds,  whose  epithets  seem  in  all 
countries  to  have  been  fantastically  adopted  from  ancient  history 
or  romance. 

It  appears  from  the  preceding  note,  that  the  real  name  by 
which  James  was  actually  distinguished  in  his  private  excursions, 
was  the  Goodman  of  Ballenguich ;  derived  from  a  steep  pass 
leading  up  to  the  Castle  of  Stirling,  so  called.  But  the  epithet 
would  not  have  suited  poetry,  and  would  besides  at  once,  and 
prematurely,  have  announced  the  plot  to  man}'-  of  my  country- 
men, among  whom  the  traditional  stories  above  mentioned  are 
mil  current. 


sac  SNA 


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